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FLORILEGIUM NUGARUM CANTABRIGENSIUM. 



PAN 



A PASTORAL OF THE FIRST AGE 



TOGETHER WITH 



SOME OTHER POEMS 



TV FORSTER MB. FRAS. FLS, etc., etc. 



AUTHOR OF PHILOZOIA. ELOGIA DI BOECC1 I — EULOGY OF SHARGS ! 
NOTES AD ARAT1 DIOSEMOEAM, AND NUMEROUS OTHER WORKS. 



BRUSSELS. 

BELGIAN PRINTING AND PUBLISHING SOC 
HAU1HAN AND CO. 




S840 



■: 



f ^ 3 



PREFACE TO THE PASTORAL 

ESPECEALLY ADDRESSED TO LEWIS GOMPERTZ, ESQ. 



As it may naturally enough be asked, what could have put it into 
my head, who am so constantly employed about very different 
matters, to write the following pastoral ; so have I thought that it 
might be as well to give to the reader some account of its origin, 
and also to state why I have dedicated it to you. Firstly as to its 
origin, I have been confined to the house, this spring, for more than 
three weeks with an epidemic feverish complaint, during the pro- 
gress of which I suffered much from ennui arising out of impatience 
of the confinement and regimen that I felt, at the same time, to be 
necessary. To divert myself therefore during these tedious hours 
of convalescence, I wrote the following verses, or rather committed 
to paper in the morning such thoughts on the subject of the poem 
as I had been occupied with, during the sleepless hours of the 
previous night. And I must now mention a remarkable fact, 
worthy the observation of phrenologists, namely that while fasting, 
in order to starve out the complaint, which is my usual method of 
getting well, I found that numberless ideas of my infancy, and the 
recollection of studies hitherto almost forgotten, rushed in upon my 
memory, as if by some magic spell ; and I continued to enjoy the most 
lively remembrance of almost every thing that I had formerly read 
on the subject of history, especially the traditions of ancient nations 
respecting the return of the golden age, during the whole period 
that I lived on this spare regimen. I had intended to have followed 
up the pastoral entilted Pan, with the Story of the Bellas a kind of 
suppliment to the former; but happily getting well, on the accession 
of the fine weather, and returning to my accustomed habits of living 
and employment , I had no longer either the power, time or incli- 
nation to finish the latter ; which mu*st therefore remain as a mere 
fragment. Such as it is, I offer this Pastoral to your notice and to 
that of some other friends, in hopes that as it afforded me some 
amusement to write it, so it may afford you some to read it. 



An important connection seems to exist between all the different 
versions of the ancient traditions respecting the origin, fall and res- 
toration of Nature; and all apear to have an obvious relation to the 
doctrine of the Catholic Church. But, what is most remarkable, the 
ancient traditions which relate to the future life of man, also include 
that of other animals : and the doctrine of universal immortality 
and final happiness, so highly calculated to enhance our notions of 
the Divine Goodness, is to be found in almost every religion of the 
East, where it has formed a principal feature, from the very earliest 
period of history. Hence you will see why I have addressed my 
lucubrations to you, as being par excellence the Animals Friend : 
for, in this amiable character, I cannot but suppose that you would 
take some interest in the spread of an opinion so highly calculated 
to add to their importance in the scale of creation, and conse- 
quently to contribute to their protection from that injustice which 
they have so long experienced from their oppressor, man. 

In travelling lately over a large portion of Europe, and conversing 
with the philosophers and theologians of various countries, I have had 
frequent occasions to remark that the belief in the souls of animals, 
as it is vulgarly called,was very prevalent andwasencreasing among 
thinking persons of every religion. Phrenology too, which is beginning 
at length to be generally credited as a true science, has contributed 
in no small degree to support this doctrine : for it has shewn the 
very similar conditions whereon the mental faculties of men and of 
animals depend, namely a commensurate cerebral organisation : and 
consequently that we could not ascribe a spiritual principle to man 
alone, while we denied it to animals, without running counter to that 
strict analogy, withoutwhich almost all our reasoning would be found 
defective and fallacious. As it is not my intention here to enter 
into any philosophical disquisitions, I shall close the subject and 
merely introduce some citations, in the course of the argument, from 
the ancient writers : authority being a thing more generally valued, 
because better understood, than reason. Most people are guided, 
in the formation of their opinions, by the prejudices of their educa- 
tion, and they maintain such opinions with an obstinacy commen- 
surate to the strenght of such early impressions, particularly where 
their minds are weak. Interest also, and the morbid activity of the 
organs of the sentiments, contribute greatly to the influence of super- 
stition, often stop the ears of judgment against the plea of sound 
sense and philosophy, and render a man, all his life, as it were 
spellbound. Whoever reflects seriously on the origin of opinions, 
will be convinced that next to organization, which is the first condi- 



tion of character,education and local circumstances, have the greatest 
share in their formation; and that if there really be such a thing as 
chance, it is a matter of mere accident, whether a man be a Jew, a 
Turk, a Christian or a philosopher ! 

Ancient tradition is the great instructor gentium; and its pale lamp 
lights the path of the pilgrim seeking, through the mazes of history, 
the long desired shrine of truth, and enables him to trace some of the 
most important opinions of the present day to a remote and unknown 
origin among early nations, whose history is lost in the twilight of 
time. 

In the following poem I have amused myself with forming a 
pastoral out of some of those recollected traditions which evidently 
relate to the doctrine of Christianity, and you will perceive that I 
have adopted, in a great measure, the views of the learned abbe 
Guerrin du Rocher, in his Histoire des temps fabuleux, and of the pious 
and benevolent Count de Maistre, in the Soirees de Saint Petersbourg , 
respecting the connection that appears to exist between the Jewish* 
Egyptian, Phrygian, Babylonian and Northern mythologies, and 
their obvious relation to some original revelation; and also respect- 
ing the universality of a divine principle of Retributive Justice. 

The publication of these learned works hast tended more than any 
thing else, in modern times, to bring philosophers back to the 
ancient and wholesome doctrine of an Intelligent God and Moral 
Governour of the Universe ; the belief in which had been much 
shaken by the French Revolution of 1 789 and by the writings of 
Voltaire, Volney and others of that school, who proceeded and fol- 
lowed this great political event. M. l'abbe de La Mennais has also 
contributed in a great measure to the same end, by his philosophical 
and religious works, particularly in his Essai sur I 'Indifference 
en matiere de Religion, etc. He has likewise exposed the mistake 
made by the Jacobins in representing Christianity as being unfriendly 
to popular liberty and equality, and consequently excluding it from 
their code of morals ; for the fact is diametrically the reverse : 
Christ was the first great teacher who ever openly proclaimed the 
equal rights of man, the duty of mutual forbearance, the sin of 
monopoly, and respect for the poor. Chastity, fasting and selfdenial 
in general are by his doctrine made special virtues ; and we are 
commanded to merge our individual wants into a benevolent consi- 
deration of public exigency, and to avoid selfish accumulation, as a 
thing forbidden by the new law. The passage of a camel through 
the eye of a needle is declared to be easier than that of a rich man 
into the kingdom of Heaven. 



Still less is the spirit of aristocracy, in its modern and abused 
sense at least, tolerated by the Christian law : humility is made an 
essential virtue ; and above all benevolence towards all God's crea- 
tures, universally and without exception, is inculcated as the most 
necessary condition of our own happiness. It may naturally be 
asked how a system of such unlimitedbenevolence and proclaiming, so 
undisguisedly, the equality of all creatures; and the sole prerogative 
of the Creator, could ever have been made a tool of such tyrannical 
oppression and a means of such appaling fanaticism as it actually 
has been in all ages. The answer however is, I think, obvious. When 
the tyrants of the earth, so long opposed to Christianity, found that 
they could no longer suppress its popularity, they concerted means 
to take another course; and by taking possession if it, and erecting 
established religions out of it, they contrived to turn it to the worse 
of their own vile purposes, and to make it the instrument of the very 
oligarchical oppression and monopoly which it was intended by its 
founder to destroy, kvroq ef ayaQSio mmv Q-^tokti ftfo<Tt t is not applicable 
to any thing more than to Christianity, which though in itself an 
excellent and holy doctrine, has been so abused and converted to 
such infamours purposes by those who have willfully perverted it, 
that it would seem to superficial minds, almost to require an apology 
from any philosopher who publicly embraced it. In countries the 
most fanatical in their outward observance of religion, do we find 
the most severe and antichristian laws and customs, particularly in 
such slates as are without the holy guidance of the universal Church, 
Some very sensible observations on this head will befound in 
Dr.Milner's End of Religious Controversy, in Dr.Wiseman's Lectures; 
and particularly in that masterpiece of English writing Cobbett's 
History of the Protestant Reformation, and his Legacy to Parsons, in 
which the plunder of the poor for the exclusive aggrandizement of 
the rich and the consequent misery and beggary of the mass of the 
people, is amply set forth as being effected by perversion of that 
very religion which says to the rich: " Sell that which thou hast and 
give it to the poor ! " 

That the human race had brought on itself and on other species 
the degradition and misery wherewith we are surrounded is a doc- 
trine not only of modern religion, but one of very great antiquity ; 
and is to be found among almost all the traditions of the East ; 
accompanied with a promise of the return of universal happiness to 
men and animals, at some period or other. Christianity confirms 
this hope and teaches us that this happy state is to take place in an 
another world. The old tales, loo, relating to the punishment in 



YII 

Tartarus, etc., are explained by the doctrine of Purgatory, to which, 
according to some learned anlhors, they related. And, after re- 
viewing the various versions of the ancient religion of India,we may 
conclude that they have all had one origin and relate to one event, 
the final prevalence of Good over Evil, and consequently of happi- 
ness over the obstacles which at present stand in the way of its 
completion. 

One thing is most remarkable, both from its importance and its 
universality in all religions, as well as from its being confirmed by 
Christ in the most positive terms ; namely that God, having given 
man a free will, governs the world on a principle of retributive 
justice. This is the moral basis of all religions, and, without it, 
they would have been unavialable as means of promoting virtue. To 
entertain the opinion of some few modern sectarians, that the vicious 
can obtain a remission of the punishment due hereafter to their 
crimes, by any measure of faith whatever, without having made 
suitable reparation and undergone due penance, is to deceive one- 
self and to misconceive the laws of a Just Providence ; but to pro- 
pagate such an opinion publicly is to unhinge society itself, and 
destroy all the salutary incentives to good actions, which can be 
derived from religion ; besides which it is contrary to our common 
sense of justice, to the most ancient writen testimony, and to the 
popular opinion of every thinking man in every age. Let us begin 
with the Bible, admitted by the learned to be the oldest known 
document ; we find it, from beginning to end, to be the History of 
Retributive Justice. In the New Testament this principle is still 
more strongly enforced, when we are told that the very uttermost 
farthing of debts of Heaven, incurred in sin, must be paid in pen- 
ance ! In all the writings of what are called profane authors, the 
same doctrine is to be found, and Plutarch has written a distinct 
treatise On the Delays of Divine Justice, of a character so perflectly 
in accordance with Christian doctrine, that one is almost inclined to 
suspect that he must have known something about it. 

Ovid condemns the Necis artifices arte perire sua; and we find 
Horace, who was one of the best and most observing of the ancient 
practical philosophers, constantly adverting to the inevitable ill 
consequence of evil actions. 

Raro antecedentem scelestum 
Diseruit pede Poena duro, 
And again in another well known ode : 

Integer vitm scelerisque purus 
Non egit Mauris jaculis neque arcu. 



VIII 

Bull need not multiply examples; the reader will find similar 
sentiments contained in the popular proverbs of every country : a 
great many are collected in the works of that fine voluminous Dutch 
poet Jacob Cats in his Spiegel van den ouden en den nieuwen Tyt 
and in the Theatro moral de la vida humana, con la Tabla de 
Ceres philosofo Plalonico, etc. I have also already given some more 
references to the subject in notes to my Visione Metafisica. I am 
not disposed to expatiate farther on the subject, but to refer the 
reader, by preference, to Spelman's History of Sacrilege , and to 
Lactantius De more persecutorum. 

The most important circumstance with respect to Retributive 
Justice, is that animals are evidently included in it, and God has, in 
Genesis and elsewhere, announced the most fearful punishments 
awaiting those who use them ill. We read in Gen., ix. 6., a 
passage highly calculated to support the opinion now so much 
entertained, that animal food was forbidden by God and that its use 
has engendered within us diseases, the fruits of offended justice : 
I quote the passage and commentary thereon from the perennial 
Calendar : — The punishment of fatal revenge and murders of the 
worst class with death is preserved in all states, even in Philadel- 
phia, and is founded on the passage in Genesis, ix. 6. Whoso 
sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed. But how can 
we interpret literally the context which precedes it : Every mov- 
ing thing that liveth shall be meat for you. Even the green herb 
have I given you, all things. 5. But flesh, with the blood thereof 
which is the life thereof ye shall not eat. 4. And surely your blood 
of your lives will I require : at the hand of every beast will I require 
it, and at the hand of man : at the hand of every mans brother will I 
require the life of man. 5. How shall we understand at the hand of 
every beast ? Kcci yxp to Cphepov cufix rcov 4jvx>w 6/xm £% xeipoa txvtcov tcou 
dypicov extyTyea, avro. 

The most remarkable passage, to my mind at least, in Horace is 
the following allusion to past time, and to the position and indes- 
tructible nature of " who has been." It suggested, in fact, part of 
the observations that I have put into the mouth of Pyrrho in the 

ensuing pastoral. 

Ille potens sui 

Lsetusque deget, cui licet in diem 
Dixisse : Vixi ! Cras vel atra 
Nube polura pater occupato, 
Vel sole puro, non taraen irritum 
Quodcumque retro est, efficiet, neque 
Diffinget infectumque reddet 
Quod fugiens semel hora vexil. 



IX 

Such enquiries, in truth, bring us too near the curtain that Na- 
ture has hung between visible effects and their invisible causes ; 
and lead us to questions which surpass our limited faculties, if not 
kept within due bounds. As these studies, however, tend to strengthen 
our belief in a moral principle of retributive justice and in a future 
state of rewards and punishments, while they help us at the same 
time to dispossess the mind of fanatical prejudices and narrow views 
of religion : so I deem no apology to be necessary, either for my 
having beguiled the tedious hours of illness with writing the 
ensuing pages, or for my now offering them to your notice, and to that 
of such of my old comrades as have talked over these subjects with 
me, at a period of life when our prospect seemed th at of an almost 
boundless panorama of enquiry, and before we had arrived at the 
humiliating conclusion to which experience and reflection invincibly 
bring us — that we know almost nothing beyond what is handed 
down to us by tradition. You will excuse, I hope, the errors of 
these hasty and uncorrected sheets, given forth with too much care- 
lessness. Wishing you now every success in the accomplishment of 
those benevolent objects in which you are so actively and honour- 
ably engaged, I remain sincerely your friend and fellow citizen (*). 



T. FORSTER. 



Schaerbeck, Sunday, May 3, 1840. 



(*) You will observe the verses of the Virgin in a different strain— the faet is, 
not being in the humour to write a lullaby to my mind, I got a child of mine to 
substitute one, and her Muse, more simple and better adapted to the subject than 
mine, figures in the Cradle Hymn , at page 75. 



SCENE 

Palestine and particularly TJie Country round Bethlehem. 
DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



MENALCAS, a young shepherd, 

DAMOETAS, a aged shepherd, } 



PALAEMON, a shepherd and traveller. 

philosophers of different creeds and systems, 



PYRRHO, 

PHILOSTRATUS, 

LUCIANUS, a satyrical guest. 

MELIB^EUS, an old herdsman . 

BACCHUS, and his comrades, in Chorus. 

VENUS and the GRACES, dancing, form the Ballet. 

Numerous attendants, besides herds, flocks dogs, etc., make part of the 

scenery. 
MARY, appears with the INFANT and is saluted by nine several Sages 

each invoking his favorise Muse. To wit : — 

Clio, or the Song of Glad Tidings, 
Thalia, or the Salutation and Gifts, 
Melpomene, or the Consolation, 
Euterpe, or the Power of Sacred Song, 
Calliope, or Prophecy of Martyrdom, 
Erato, or Prophecy of Church Music, 
Polihymnia, or Traditions Resolved, 
Terpsichore, or Prayer and Penance, 
Urania, or Eucharistic Consummation. 

ASTRjEA, at length, descends and speaks the Epilogue. 






PROLOGUE. 

SPOKEN BY MENALCAS. 



I who, e'er while Arcadian groves among, 
Of shepherds' loves, in rustic ascents sung — - 
Who to no higher themes had tun d my lays, 
Than Corin's worth, or Cloe's homely praise ; 
Nor took, in rural ditty, higher aim 
Than to perpetuate Sabina's fame, 
Or laud Nesera's golden curling locks, 
Or the white fleeces of Palsemon's flocks, 
Or Phryne's eyes, so languishing and sweet, 
Or Libertina's lightly tripping feet,* 
Or laid, perhaps, in melancholy mood, 
By smooth Meander's softly babbling flood, 
Have staid the Naids on the banks, that rove 
To hear the plaint of Arethusa's love ; 
And in my turn have told the mournful tale 
How Gallus his Lycoris did bewail — 
Now to still loftier rhymes the Muse invite, 
With lips more chasten'd and a bolder flight, 
To chant the praise of the Eternal Pan, 

* Properlus has it :— -Et canit, ut soleant molliter ire pedes, 

a 



Today come down from Heaven to dwell with man. 

Not all are pleased to wend the peaceful way, 

Through flowery dales, and breathe the air of day, 

Midst blossom'd bushes, or where darkening trees 

Fan their green leaves to Zephyrs musky breeze ; 

Content to dwell the greenwood shades among, 

Cheer'd by Lueinia's strains, or Procne's song : 

For higher minds a higher theme demand, 

And purer notes touch' d by an abler hand. 

To please you then, I quit the oaks and rills, 

And now to graver stops have touch'd the quills ; 

Assist me then, sweet Clio, to unfold 

The mystic legends that were read of old, 

By elder bards at history's early dawn, 

When first the young world suck'd the breath of morn, 

Whose prophecies relate to later days. 

So help me to extol our Master's praise ; 

And then, should I His approbation gain, 

Yours is the second boon I would obtain : 

And if I give ye entertainment due, 

I am rewarded by amusing you ; 

But if perchance I might not thus succeed, 

And hang my hopes upon a broken reed, 

My vanquished Muse shall now retreat with sorrow, 

And you shall hear a sweeter strain tomorrow. 



PAN 

A PASTORAL OF THE FIRST CENTURY. 



Scene I. — Discovers a wide plane in Judeea before sunrise, where shepherds, 
assembled from various parts , are sleeping by their flocks, ,]Menalcas 
rises and says. 

At length Aurora from yon eastern brow 
Peeps o'er the russet fallows and green lawns, 
And fires the grey peaks of each hoary hill 
With her pale saffron light : but why her torch 
Lit from the lamp of Day should burn so pale; 
Why she has borow'd the dark cowl of Night 
And is in trim, so unlike the gay morn , 
When in her ruby mantle she arose 
Lately to light the mighty Titan's path 
And lead him on to victory over Python; 
Is now my wonderment : for I remember 
She look'd as if array'd in Iris scarf, 
And, with her prismy mirror in her hands, 
Faithful to every tint her wardrobe owns, 
Cast down upon the glistening earth below 
Such purple radiance of his orient beams, 
As, to proclaim approaching majesty, 
Call'd forth the winged heralds of the spring, 
Each in his gayest livery to attend, 
And wait upon the chariot of the Sun. 
Flora too then was lavish, and let fall, 
From her rich calathus, the sweet musk rose, 
With pinks that throw their fragrance all around, 
And primroses that sip the morning dew : 

Each daisy'd bank, each flowerenamelled dell 

l 



( 2) 

Was bordered with the purple violet, 

And every tangled copse and valley green 

Seem'd dotted with the snowdrop's little bloom, 

Or else, where Hyacinth and Scilla met, 

A lovelier blue rivalFd the azure sheen. 

Well I remember, how the birds did sing 

And poured their love notes from each blosom'd bough, 

Filling the choral grove with melody, 

Nor less shrewd Procne, round her slimy nest, 

Twittering at morn beneath the cottage thatch, 

Broke the sweet slumber of the village maid ; 

While through the hollow and resounding dale 

Narcissus fled from his loquacious bride. 

Tis not so here : for all is hush'd around, 

And Silence sits upon the mountain top, 

Surveying her dull reign : not e'en the lark 

From his high oratory in the clouds 

Sings his rathe matin hymn ; but all is still, 

At least if stillness can be fairly call'd 

That which is often broken in upon 

By the shrill clarion of the early cock, 

Who taking this pale little wintry noon 

For a long dawning, croweth all the day: 

And then as fearful lest the murky night 

Should favour the grim wolf or thievish fox 

That skulks about the coops with hungry jaws, 

He like a faithful centinel keeps watch, 

And counts the long hours from the homestead lodge : 

But to my task : for now the light of Phoebus 

Hat stretch'd out the wide landscape, I must haste 

And loose my flocks from their close wattled pens , 

To browse about the sheepwalks ; faithful Hylax 

Wakes now each shepherd with his honest bark, 

But who comes hither : if mine eyes be true, 



( 3 ) 

'Tis old Damoetus followed by his goats. 

Yes, it is he : my eyes do not deceive; 

I know him by his sedgy mantle grey, 

His measured step and crook worn out by age, 

But most of all by Mopsus his old dog, 

Whose shaggy hair, long ears, and eyes of fire, 

So fit to light the lost kid home at night, 

Can never be mistaken. Hail Damcetas ! 

It cheers me up, a landsman thus to greet; 

But 'tis most strange that we should come together 

On Syria's plains, who but the other evening, 

In the fresh pastures of Arcadia , 

Batten d our flocks with wholesome dews distuTd 

From the moist nightcap of high Maenalus; 

Or under the dark shelter of his pines 

Listen d at noonday to the rustic pipe 

Whereon fond Damon to his Phillis play'd. 

Da. Good morrow, Shepherd, that soliloquy 
Reach'd me before I knew from whence it came ; 
For when thy song unconsciously call'd up 
The mocking Echo from her airy cell, 
To tell the tale to the responsive woods, 
Unheeded, o'er the dewy spangled fields, 
I drove my nibbling herds abroad to graze : 
While turning by the base of you green hill, 
Round which the sacred stream of Jordan flows, 
A stray breeze from behind the bullrushes, 
Stole forth at break of day, and took his course 
Along the babbling windings of the flood. 
With thy soft accents hanging on his wings, 
When meeting me on the smooth water's edge , 
He wafted them to these my listening ears. 
The voice half recollected, half forgot, — 
For sudden change can work a queer confusion 



( * ) 

In man's frail memory, at first I took 
For one of those unseen and ominous tongues 
That call the fated hearer by his name. 
I startled; but at length o'er unjust fears 
Firm confidence resum'd her wonted sway. 
I do allow 'tis strange that we meet here 
But less so truly than 'tis fortunate , 
Yet Menalcas, if I rightly ween, 
Thou hast mistook the gist of chanticleer 
Whose shrill and spiritstirring horn awoke 
The Dryads from their mossy pillow'd couch 
And shook the sear leaves from the wither'd oak. 
It was not the sly fox nor grizzly wolf, 
Nor roughpawd bear, nor spotted mountain pard 
That mov'd the trumpeter of early morn 
To break the silence of the midnight hour , 
And put to flight the fickle train of dreams, 
That follow feverish Morpheus through the night.— 
But I must cut the thread of long discourse, 
And seek some shadowy bower of beach or elm ; 
For these my weary limbs have need of rest. 
But tell me, as we jog along the way, 
Thy story and for why thou'rt hither come. 
M. I was beguiled here by a radiant star, 
Which, blazing in the chambers of the East, 
I took for the fair beams of Phosphorus ; 
But it turn'd out a faint and wandering flame 
Such as they say oft leads th'unwary hind 
O'er quagmire bogs and quicksands insecure, 
Bottomless sloughs and hills of ill repute, 
Through briary tangled maze, or thorny brake, 
Till in some whirlpool of foul jeopardy 
It leaves him to bewail his misplac'd trust. 
Lur'd by this light I closely followed on. 



( 5 ) 

Till yesterday, when from the westering wheels 
Of Phoebus' wain dim Darkness rose again, 
And over all things his black pinions spread; 
And then I laid me on a grassy bank 
In deepest meditation, till the star, 
Spreading it rays above yon humble roof, 
Now stood as steadfast as the Cynosure, 
Not even following the sluggish team 
Which the old waggoner Bootes guides, 
Marking his daily track about the pole, 
As if he fear'd to touch th' Atlantic wave. 
Sure it must be some fearful warning to us , 
Some comet blazing forth a monarch's death , 
Or a foreboding of dire thing to come ; 
Still the stroke falls less heavy when 'tis shard 
By kindred shoulders, so we'll trudge together. 

D. Let us repair then to yon antient well, 
Where Israel's thirsting patriarch of yore 
Quaff'd the cool water from Rebecca's pail. 
I have oft heard that by that favour d spring, 
And drawing thencefrom all its nourishment, 
A vine once grew of such a giant size , 
That round the girdle of the very earth, 
It twin'd its monstrous branches, and shot forth, 
From either side, its suckers to the poles. 
Beneath this tree and basking in its shade, 
An old and haughty people used to dwell , 
Whom Jove divided into twice six tribes, 
In honour of those victories at Lerna 
By Hercules o'er twelve fell monsters gained ; 
And to hand down to all posterity, 
The labours of that day, the gods assigned 
To these twelve tribes as many signs in Heaven, 
Which in the circling Zodiac parcell'd out 



( 6 ) 

Now gyrate with th'eternal welkin round. 
But the great nations whom they represent 
Scattered abroad like chaff before the wind, 
Have lost their strength from union once deriv'd. 
Still, like the cursed thistle or wild bramble 
They rove where e'er rich pasturage be found, 
And, though by each hand quickly rooted up, 
Thy yet contrive to multiply, and flourish 
By secret commerce of Pactolian ores. 
Oft have I heard old Hermes tell the story 
To Conon, on the wide Thessalian plain , 
While watching by my flocks in summer's night. 
And then, from his melodious sevenstring'd lute, 
He drew such heavenly concords of sweet sound, 
Such strains of soulentrancing harmony 
As outdid all the music of the spheres. — 
But we approach the fountain; so sit down 
Under this canopy of palmy boughs, 
And, when our weanling lambs have drunk their fill 
And m their snowy fleeces lay at rest , 
I will a wonder ous tale to thee unfold. 

M. Begin then; for th'impatient nymph Expectancy 
On tiptoes stands upon my panting breast 
Thrilling with ears erect and longing eyes. 

/). I will commence ; for these sweet crystal drops 
Of recreant liquid have unlock'd the gates 
Of Memory's storehouse and set free such thoughts 
As in Oblivion's dark prison lay. 
While musing, when a boy, upon a scroll 
Mark'd with obscure and dingy characters 
That my baulk'd reason could not understand 
Nor wit decypher; suddenly a dove 
Comely and bland as is Sithonian snow, 
Hover'd with kestril pinions o'er my head 



( 1 ) 

And dropp'd thereon some pure ethereal spirit, 

And then I could interpret their import ; 

To wit, that Pan the god of elements 

Would, in obedience to some law divine, 

Of Justice or of Mercy, I know not, 

Consent again to dwell with us, and be 

Our Master Shepherd ; that both Time and Space 

Are held in requisition to this end — 

That they should mould for him a human form 

And make him take the figure of a man, 

Till , by dire sufferance of mortal ills , 

He should confer upon his faithful flocks 

Th'enormous boon of endless happiness, 

In realms where the bright daystar ceaseless shines 

On nectar'd streams and pastures ever green. 

I know not whether thou has yet to learn 

A tale that the quaint Sybil used to tell , 

When Amnion brought his Oracle from Thebes, 

About the world's beginning, when the wilds 

Of Nature were as yet unstained by sin 

And every creature, man, beast, fish or fowl , 

That filled the sea , the forest , or the air, 

Bask'd under Freedom's smiles, fearless as yet 

Of pain and death ; but, like great Jove himself, 

Immortal and unconscious of all harm , 

Enjoy'd the blessings of perpetual day, 

In gardens of myrrh, aloes and cassia, 

Whose luscious perfumes pall'd upon the sense , 

Then every orange bush, and citron grove, 

More comely than the bright Hesperian tree 

Fann'd by the musky Zephyrus, at once 

Bore the enamell'd flower and golden fruit, 

To saturate each sense ; while all things living 

Dwelt in sweet concord with themselves and man. 



( 8 ) 

The brindled lioness and striped hyaena, 

The speckled panther and the keeney'd lynx, 

The tusked boar and rude rhinoceros 

Might then be seen caressing the young lamb, 

Or frolicking with the capricious kid. 

While little children used to take a ride 

On the huge elephant's long leathern trunk; 

And oftentimes, shipp'd on a dolphin s back, 

Would make their cruise upou the level brine , 

To visit Tethys in her coral bed, 

Or to review the sporting finny shoals 

That skuttle on the billows: others yet 

More venturesome would mount into the air , 

In a rude basket carried up by swans 

Or scarlet ibis or wisevisage'd owls : 

When Cynthia stooping their embrace to meet 

Saluted them beneath an amber cloud. 

Then o'er the emerald lawns and borders trim 

Set out with lilies and the amaranth, 

Through groves that thrill'd with vocal humming birds 

That in sweet cedar bowers made their nest, 

By fountains pure, or beside placid ponds 

Where lovely Nais combs her golden hair, 

Sporting they roam, nor fear'd, at dewy fall, 

The mildew blight, nor Eurus' fatal blast. 

But under a perpetual sky serene 

Unclouded save by Mornings dappled shawl 

Or the greyhood which modest Evening wears 

To hide her purple blushes from the Sun , 

They ran about as merry as the motes 

That frolic in Apollo's transient beams; 

Or slept on pansie banks and beds of thyme 

Lull'd to sweet dreams by the Hyblaean bee 

To care and pain and sickness yet unknown. 



( 9 ) 
This was the state of Nature when she first 
Burst forth from Chaos, by command of Jove. 
And this her state is destin'd to return, 
So soon as Pan, ripe in his fullgrown years, 
Shall teach the shepherd her true laws again. 
'Twas th'envious serpent sensuality, 
Pride in his heart and in his sting conceal'd 
Foul concupiscence, while his flattering tongue 
Wq,s false in words of glossing courtesy, 
That did beguile our ancestors to taste 
The flesh of animals by God forbidden, 
Hence with a feverish and unbridled thirst 
They suck'd the poison potion after potion 
Till the whole body was become impure, 
And therefore made th'inheritance of death. 
Hence fever s heat, and shivering ague chills 
Rheumatic limbs and foul polluted blood ; 
Nor to the sufferer were these ills confin d 
For each imparted to his partner's flesh 
The cankerous stain and tainted the whole race. 
And bred such monsters of disease and sin 
As sage Lucina shuddered to behold. 
Dame Nature soon herself was overthrown 
And every creature felt the direful scourge, 
Each preying on his neighbour's blood and bones 
Till the wide world was one vast scene of war. 
And then to perfect the anathema 
Jove on each coupled pair this curse pronounc'd— 
In sorrow ye shall bring your children forth 
Heirs to each ill by parent sin entailed. 
Nor shall this deadly stain be blotted out, 
Till Terra shall again conceive by Ccelus 
And bring an Increment of Heaven on Earth 
To restore Nature to her wonted course : 

2 



( io ) 

So Pan hath prof erred his kind services 

To take a mortal form, and dwell below. 

But like all mortals he must die again 

A violent death, and then th'affrighted world 

Will all be panic struck, with direful signs, 

But from the pastures new, which he shall sow 

With the good seed, a tall unbrageous tree 

Shall grow deep rooted in the mother earth, 

With lofty boughs that out top Caucasus 

And bear their golden fruits in Heaven itself. 

The way thereto lays up the prickly bark 

Of this tall tree ; and that the palmer true 

May find his road to his last resting place, 

Its rugged stem is round about entwin'd 

By the green mantling vine of which I spoke 

That hangs its clustering grapes from every branch, 

To nourish the faint pilgrim : now, Menalcas, 

This is my story : and the cock that kept 

His sleepless watch was posted as a sentry 

To drive all evil spirits from this ground ; 

And the faint beacon whose rays caught thy view 

Is if I understand its due inport, 

Brilliant as Berenice's spangled locks 

Or the starr'd girdle of Andromeda : 

Twas a lamp hung aloft by Mercury, 

To guide us to the brith place of the God. 

Let us then profit by this lucky chance 

Which ominous Fortune in our way has thrown; 

And now, in place of wondering thereat, 

Haste to salute him with our rustic song. 

M. I'm less surpris'd by promis'd reparation, 
Than by the loss that made it necessary : 
For how the high and nether Jupiter 
Allwise and also allbeneficent, 



( 11 ) 

Who by his fiat fashion'd countless suns 

And pencil'd out with an unerring hand 

The tracks of millions of revolving planets 

That circle round them in just harmony, 

Could be thus foil'd and baffled in his purpose, 

By any force less potent than his own, 

Is past my comprehension ; yet the proof 

Of some such dire catastrophe in seen 

In every worm that rots upon the ground 

And every fowl that falls from out the air; 

But most of all in man, whose bright conceptions 

Of sublime virtue and pure happiness 

Are in their very buds so rudely nipped, 

Like the ephemeral cystus in the spring 

That the winds blast so soon as k is blown. 

All things I ween are out of place Damoetas , 

As if the springs of evil and disorder, 

That in Cimmerian cave imprison d were, 

Had been set free by some damn'd friendish hand 

And let loose on the elements of good, 

With all the horrid shapes that breed therein 

The curling watersnake and poison'd asp 

Dread Hydra and the rattled cockertrice 

And those infernal and souldarkening powers 

Pride lust and avarice the spawn of hell. 

D. But hold : from yonder mountain's pebbly sides 
Two young] philosophers with eager steps 
Are making out the cross way to this place, 
Philostratus and Pyrrho, as I wist, 
The sophist and the sceptic hand in hand. 
Guided by sage Palsemon, who they say, 
From his long tour to Ganges and the Nile, 
Returns full frighted with rich Indian lore 
I'll hail him, to make company with us, 
And he tonight stall be our oracle. 



( 12 ) 

Scene II. — Shepherds are seen assembling towards fall of day ; and after 
folding theie flocks, conversing together : — Lucian enters. 



M. Lucian I greet ye well : and now I trust 
Thy long sojournment in far distant climes 
Hath made thee wise in all things necessary 
For our instruction in this doubtful quest 
Of a deliverer so long foretold. 
Say by what compass thou hast hither I steered , 
And then by what just steps we may aspire 
To pay due hommage to the Infant God? 

Lu. How little one man know anothers means 
Or kens the instincts that kind Nature gives : 
My compasses have been the young moon's horns 
Crescent or waning, and my only loadstar 
The golden pin which envious Juno snatched 
From her own bosom and therewith impale'd 
Fair Helice to a fix'd point in heaven. 
Tis by Calisto's tail I find my way 
To Scythian snows or Lybia's burning sands; 
With much more sure and prosperous enterprize, 
That these who follow after comet's tails ! 

M. I find that learned travellers are apt 
To make a jest of those who toil at home; 
But if thou canst be serious, and the joy 
Of meeting friends hath not made judgment drunk, 
And change'd instruction to a bantering fop, 
Thou will resolve the questious I have made. 

Lu. Knows' t thou the drift of all this wondrous story 
Or to what end this pilgrimage be made 
It is unwise unless ye comprehend 
The manner of the thing, to grive it credence, 
However I will bear you company. 

Phil. I'm puzzl'd by thy mode of reasoning, 



( 13 ) 

For how can we with senses limited 

Embrace the scope of such a mystery ? 

No power can call on me to understand 

That which outstrides the range of human ken; 

But if we place due trust in oracles 

And humbly think our understanding frail, 

Faith will instruct us where weak Reason fails 

And teach us things too vast to understand. 

Pijr. I must esteem'd that doctrine paradox 
Which makes the little comprehend the great. 
And while tis ever ready to allow 
That Jove hath given us reason to employ 
On all things ; bids us shut that reason out 
Of questions that are of most consequence. 

Phil. It is the function, Pyrrho, of all oracles 
With a prophetic and unerring tongue 
To utter truths which baffle humble reason. 
But there is yet a mode, to try their worth 
And measure their validity thereby, 
Without recourse to our own scanty wit ; 
Tis to consult the page of history 

Luc. You mean that test which prudent cooks employ, 
The pudding's proof which in its eating lies. 

Phil. You always laugh, but laughing you have hit 
My meaning : for, what fool would go to Delphos 
If history had prov'd the prophet false. 
But the great mystery in this doth lie, 
That there must virtue be in him who asks 
As well as in the oracle consulted : 
The stool whereon prophetic Pythia sits 
Is a mysterious tripod, whose three legs 
Are by Faith, Hope and Charity endow'd 
With all their force and virtue to support 
The weight of so much knowledge, and the hole 



( 14 ) 

Central to all, through which the Stygian fumes 

Arise and mingle with her placed breath 

Cast up to Heavend when she woul , fain inspire 

Jove's hidden truth, and give it to the world, 

Is a dark grove from the Tartarean pit 

Wisely contriv'd that fear might balance hope 

And hold th'unsteady mind in a just poise. 

She to whom Jove has giv'n command o'er all, 

From her high office, men have Justice called, 

But, from her known abode among the stars, 

The Gods above Astoea have yclept. 

And, if I rightly guess the holy scheme 

Of this great mystery, she is entrusted 

With restitution of the golden age. 

After the crimes of this our sin worn world 

Shall by due penitence be purge'd away. 

And then again the lion with the lamb 

Shall lie in sweet composure ; nor shall man 

Who hath so long been all creation's curse 

Have farther power to slay and oppress ; 

Or right to rob the swink'd bee's gather'd stores 

Or steal the milk from the new weaned calf. 

If such a right exist, which I much question, 

Tis by permission of vindictive Justice, 

That Jove's offending people may be scourge'd : 

For every drop of stolen milk, or blood 

That from a living vein has e'er been drawn, 

To glut man's hungry paunch, is but allowd 

To enter into human composition, 

That it may breed therein a thousand ills. 

Thus while the Goddess walks the battle field 

And tramples on the unjust warrior's neck, 

She bears the poison'd vial in her hands 

For every glutton's throat ; while to the few 



( is ) 

To whom strict Virtue gives the golden key 
Of Health's abundant storehouse, she consents 
To grant her favours, as encouragement 
To persevere in honour to the end. 

Phil. I am resolv'd to hear all arguments. 
And to reserve the right of due reply. 
But see from youder cloud the dew descends 
And the long shadows warn us to depart, 
If we intend by break of early dawn 
To reach our destination ; it were better 
When on the road, our converse to resume. 
But e'er we set out on this pilgrimage 
Let us right well disccorn our course, and first 
What is our just position at this time, 
Palsemon be thou our geographer. 

Pal. Yon lofty cone whose distant peak reflects 
The golden light of Hesper's evening rays, 
Is Oreb's little hill, and farther east 
Mount Sinai rears aloft his sacred head ; 
Turn to the south and Edom's rugged pass 
Obstructs the sight; there Moab's slimy pool, 
The washpot of the mighty thunderer, 
With Ephraim and Manasseh are discerned. 
Those long defiles of high and shady palms 
Conduct from the farfame'd Jerusalem, 
To the green banks of Jordan's healing stream, 
From whence they lead on, by an eastern route, 
To fertile fields perfum'd wtth spicy blooms 
Of asphodel and rose of Jericho. 
Where the old town, from whence they take their name, 
Presents its mouldering battlements to view. 
Our way is 'twixt you gently rising slopes 
Which lay between us and the gilded spokes 
Of the Sun's chariot wheels now hastening 



( 16 ) 
From the red mottled west to Ocean's bed. 
Twere better e'er he draws his curtains dim, 
While yet mild Evening smiles upon the plain, 
To steer our onward course; lest envious Night, 
In her dark lantern should shut up the stars, 
Or leave us, muffled in a dingy mist, 
To grope our way in this untrodden path ; 
We have yet time ; for I can still discern 
Daphni's rich flocks in slanting windrows lay 
Spotting the smoothcrop'd lawns of lively green, 
While the clear azure welkin over head, 
Speckled with fleecy clouds, seems to reflect 
In its bright mirror the white sheep below. 
High on yon ridge beneath the radiant star 
Is Bethlehem ; and thither is our course. 

Da. Let us take Time then by his forelock gray 
And hasten outward as the star directs. 

Luc. Tis not Time's forelock, but the fetlock truly 
Of the wing'd horse that yon must now hold fast, 
If you be bent on such an airy flight, 
Or the rams horns who bore the golden fleece 
Whereon the venturing Phryxus made his voyage ; 
Who, overloaded with fair Helle's weight, 
Down toppled her into the Pontic flood. 

M. One might as well attempt to manicle 
The hundred handed Gyges, or to catch 
The slippery Carpathian soothsayer 
Great Proteus and fast bind him in a noose, 
As to hold thee in solid argument. 
But see o'er yonder steep the colour'd bow : — 
Come then ; bright Iris, in a honied show r er, 
With thy wet skirts and dewy slipper'd feet 
Press these parch'd lips, and passing let me suck 
The fringe of thy aroma dripping train. 



( IT ) 

Scene III. A wide area, shepherds, magi and others assembled debate 
whether to proceed or to turn bach. Pyrrho speaks and Philostralus 
replies ; and the procession moves forward. 

Me. The question is, whether to bend our course 
To Bethlehem, or homeward to return : — 
It seems a tedious task for weary steps, 
And fraught with danger ; for the drowsy Night 
Hath drawn her ebon curtains round the pole, 
Save where she peeps through thelight southern window 
Over Orion's shoulders, and invites 
Aldebaran and the rainy Hyades, 
To shed on us their ill betiding beams. 
The wetwinged Zephyr us e'er break of day 
Will pour his urn upon our desert road, 
I mark'd the heifer just at folding time, 
With wide uplifted nostrils, sniff the air ; 
The swallow dipp'd her wings into it lake, 
And the hoarse frog croak'd loudly from the pool. 
If storms and darkness should our portion be, 
We have no force to meet such obstacles, 
Nor guide to lead us through this labyrinth 
Of tangled woods and ways unknown before. 

Da. The star of Bethlehem be then our pilot 
And courage shall a ready shield provide. 
Me. What power have we arm'd with a shepherd's crook , 
To cope with the night thief's twoedged sword ? 

Da. He who has conscience for his counsellor 
Needs not the quiver'd Mede's unerring dart, 
Nor the steel mantling of the warrior's mail. 
What force had David who Goliah slew T , 
Except the strength that Heaven vouchsaf 'd to him ? 

Me. I know not whom you thus would designate. 

Da. I mean the great man whom the small one slew. 



( 18 ) 

Me. Was he of human form or giant growth ? 

Da. His knapsack were a cradle for an ox ; 
His head a battering ram, and his long arms 
Were catapultas fit to hurl a rock ! 
Yet Mars to David turn'd the chance of war ! 

Me. Perhaps, though puny, he had greater strength, 
A swifter steed, or longer pointed spear ? 

Da. Nay ; twas a pebble from a slender sling 
That was embedded in the monster's front 
The battle is not always with the strong 
Nor is the race for ever with the swift ; 
Justice, as umpire, over both presides, 
And, just as Virtue drops in either scale 
The meritorious balance, she decides ! 

Me. There is an envious ruler, as I'm told, 
The enemy of shepherds who lays wait, 
With murderous knife, to slay the infant Pan : 
With this intent he every male condemns 
To hasty death, so soon as he be born ; 
And, Saturn like, spills his own childrens blood : 
Should we encounter him or his damn'd crew, 
What power shall guide the sword in our defense ? 

Da. The same that guided Jael's treacherous hands 
To drive the fatal nail through Sisera's head. 
The same that strung Diana's dreaded bow, 
Whose shaft transfix'd Orion's proferr'd heart ! 
The same, if I may great with small compare, 
That threw the Giants' mountain ladder down, 
Wherewith they hoped to scale the walls of Heaven, 
And beard the Gods in their strong castlehold. 
With this intent, a dire rebellious gang 
Rolled massive Ossa on broad Pelion's base 
And steepled high Olympus over all. 
But what avail'd strong Mimas, rude Typhoeus, 



( 19 ) 
Rhoecus, or thy audacious sling, Enceladus, 
Or dread Porphyrin's unmeasured lance ? 
So soon as blueeyed Pallas took the field, 
Their tinkling arrows from her aegis fell 
Powerless and spent upon the earth below ; 
Till fierce Electra shot her firey bolt 
And hurl'd the mighty Babel to the ground. 
The Logos then with drew his patronage 
From kindred folks, now to each other dumb 
And Nature's tongue became a polyglot. 
The swond of Justice is o'er all, Menalcas ; 
She bears the balance on her lily neck ; 
One side supports the Amalthsean horn 
To pour sweet nard and cassia on the just : 
But bitter wormwood fills the other scale. 
Her form is beauty in strict symetry. 
Sweet in her smiles to those who smiles deserve, 
She bears in her white hands the torturing scourge, 
Ready for Naughtiness that needs the lash, 
And treads on Vice with adamantine heels. 

Me. Thy picture bids me put my armour on 
And girdle these weak loins with Virtue's zone. 

Da. But yet I see that squinteyed Hesitation 
Stands by thy side and rocks thy trembling frame. 

Me. The mind is willing but the body weak. 

Da. Duty knows but one straight and certain path : 
All deviation from the right is wrong : 
Range with thy comrades and bid coy Excuse 
Take flight and mix her fumes into the wind. 

Me. But what have we, who lay in shepherd's huts 
And on the turf take our low bolstered sleep, 
To do with Pan and his high vaulted seat ? 
When we, at morn, raise our rushpillow'd heads, 
Tis fitter on some quaint unfashion'd reed 



( 20 ) 
To carol Pales and invite the Fawns 
With cloved feet to dance about the fold, 
Than with ambition, illbecoming hinds, 
To swell the chorus of this serenade. 

Da. When Enterprize an arduous task propounds 
The coward sneaks into a cockle shell, 
There with Humility secure to bide, 
And hide from public gaze his wreathless brow. 

Me. Those words, of thine Damcetas, were too hard ! 
For, putting peril or success aside, 
Such hommage as this pilgrimage proposes, 
For lowly courtiers is too high a suit. 

Da. Does then the eagle from her lofty nest 
Mount higher than the lowly roosted lark ? 
The humblest prayers are of the most effect , 
To bring Heaven s highest favours down to earth. 

Pal. Before we start, the two philosophers 
Philostratus and Pyrrho, each in turn, 
One for and one against this pilgrimage, 
By general consent, are to be heard : 
And I, by universal acclamation 
Am constituted the deciding judge. 

Pyrrho. I claim the right then to unseal my lips 
And deal my crude thoughts out in argument 
And first I do object to this our errand, 
That it is fraught with danger to sound sense 
And that is doth involve us in belief 
Of doctrines full of dangerous casuistry, 
I am disposed to doubt of every thing 
That to th' immortal gods relation bears. 
First, if Jove be eternal, as tis said 
And which t'were hard to gainsay, for, I ween 
From empty nothing, nought can emanate, 
The universe must be eternal too ; 



( 21 ) 
For I can scarce conceive of Jupiter 
A bare existence without life or form, 
And then if we admit the universe 
Eternal, it may hold, within itself, 
The active causes of its own effects : 
Nature proclaims the power which doth inhere 
In matter to produce her changing forms : 
All that we call the world's phenomena, 
Whether of vegetation, life or mind, 
May, from the various mixtures of these atoms 
From earths great labratory be evolved ! 
How little do we mortals comprehend 
Of matter's essence and of motion's laws, 
Or know, pent up in this close pinfold here, 
Mere babies in the lap of Cybele, 
Of those wide fields and regions infinite 
That beyond Night's starspangled curtain lie ! 
Let Fancy permeate the Milky Way 
And pass the boundary of visible worlds, 
And the wide plain of this vast starry host, 
That bright Urania in her cincture holds ; 
Can she descry the limits of creation, 
Or say what countless planets may revolve 
Round suns eternally in boundless space ? 
Or what varieties of living forms 
Inhabit them ! Or count the combinations 
Of each with all, through endless ages drawn, 
Destin'd by Jove and Nature to complete 
The changes of the polymorphous whole ? 
Myriads of clusters, groupes, and nebulae, 
Whose light will never reach our little orb, 
May sustain worlds in regions without end. 
If, from the blue sky's mighty vault of suns 
Central to globes and comets like our own 



( 22 ) 
With the rings, moons and satellites of each, 
Which strict analogy has clearly prov'd 
To be possess'd of their inhabitants 
Proportion^ to their place and magnitude, 
We turn our eyes to the earth's mouldering shell ; 
We find that Nature people's every leaf 
And waterdrop with nations as important. 
When they be set before Infinity, 
As those which chance to bear the name of man ; 
And quite as great in Jove's allseeing eyes 
Are the innumerous insects of the ground, 
As the huge whale or great Leviathan 
Nor is a beehive less than mighty Rome ! 
To all he gives to live their little day, 
Weave their small crowns, and in their tiny sphere 
To wield their sceptres and to wage their wars : 
E'en Vesta's fumy breath is not bereft 
Of its inhabitants; and in each tear, 
Which Niobe o'er her lost children sheds, 
Whole tribes of animalcula rejoice : 
So rife is Nature with intelligence ! 
If then we mortals do so little ken 
Of the productive nisus that resides 
In earth's fresh mixtures and newmodell'd forms, 
Why should we hastily deny the power 
Of subtile matter to engender mind ! ? 
The external world is but a change of forms, 
Of which the senses are the witnesses 
And though there must be cause for each effect, 
We neither know its origin nor scope. 
As far as our experience can judge, 
And barring doubts about external things, 
The particles of matter always change, 
And the same mollecules which yesterday 



( 23 ) 
Compos'd fair Cytherea's form divine, 
May ee'r tomorrow be the life of worms, 
So the burnt ashes from the hero's urn, 
Spread on the earth, supply the verdant grass, 
Which in its turn become the food of kine : 
Twas thus that Io changed her beauteous shape 
And took the outward likeness of a cow : 
That Baucis and Philemon changed to trees, 
And Leda was by downy plumes embraced. 
What are the tales that fabling Naso tells 
But metamorphoses of matter's forms ? 
Nor is imagination overstrained 
By thinking that the sentient mind itself, 
If it be one and individual, 
May, as the wise Pythagoras hath taught, 
Change its clay habitation, when we die ; 
And the same soul, which now gives Tully life, 
May once have animated Socrates ? 
Or at some point of time still more remote 
Have been the little firefly's living spark ! 
But putting all objection well aside 
To spirit's domination over matter, 
Admitting too that the Omnipotent 
Exists with all his tributary Gods, 
It is profane in man to arrogate 
Nature's exclusive favours to himself, 
Or to suppose that allcreative Pan 
Can, on mere human errand, come to earth, 
To drink the bitter draught of Lethe's wave 
Man, the hard taskmaster of every beast, 
The general oppressor whose vile hand 
Taints what it touches, like the cankerworm, 
Had he free will, as you would fain pretend, 
Could lay no claim to heaven's prerogative, 



( 24 ) 
Bred, like each kindred brute, of flesh and blood, 
Like them the sport of Fortune's luckless wheel, 
And just as they are, heir to certain death, 
While, during life, he is their common curse, 
Man has no right to clench that fabled key 
That opens an exclusive paradise. 
I know that there are systems numberless 
Which Plato and the stoic school have fram'd 
To explain all things and to give to God 
Imperial rule o'er Nature wide domain, 
But it is vain to place Jove fate above. 
Can we, by any straining of hard thoughts, 
Conceive his power o'er past phenomena ? 
That which is yet in embryo may still 
Be by some power directed ; but the past 
Which the fleet Hours have whirled away from sense 
Is no more in the grasp of Gods or men. 
Therefore there is a law above volition : 
And I demand from whence it be derived ? 
What boots it to deduce from Night's dark womb 
Clotho and Lachesis and Atropos, 
If Erebus the parent's birth be lost 
In the dark shadows of eternal Chaos ? 
Another thing which baffles more my strengh 
Of comprehension, is the alledged free will 
Of man, endow'd with power to rebel, 
With stinted force, against Omnipotence ! 
Had the swift Atalanta then the choice 
To crush or to pick up the tempting fruit ? 
How could creation move in harmony, 
If Discord, without cause and free from fate, 
Could throw her apple midst the peaceful crowd ? 
Nature would have no sway, if man were free 
To break her laws, by dint of mere caprice ! 
Therefore I hold this but a fond conceit ; 



( 25 ) 
Nor lay the flattering unction to my soul 
That I , by virtue of a hermit's life, 
Could any boon insure to merit due. 
These are but nursery tales by knaves impress'd 
On the soft mould of childhood's tender mind, 
With fell intent its reason to forestall, 
And cast the fashion of the future thoughts ! 
What shepherd's ear hath not suck't in the song 
Of Eden's garden and the Golden Age, 
The tempter Serpent and forbidden fruit, 
The leaf of Lotos , and the Orphic egg; 
And all which followed of mysterious tale 
Which Indian Brahma first JEgyptus taught 
And wily Moses in his bondage learn'd. 
And though tis difficult to well discern 
Which version of this text be orthodox ; 
Yet the main doctrine is spread far and wide. 
Twas but the other night the Mantuan bard 
To his Thalia the strange story told, 
Invoking Pollio for a just return 
Of all these fairy and fictitious times. 
There was an unction in his charming verse 
That fill'd the spongy air with its illusion, 
And bound all hearers in a magic spell, 
And as smooth Mincius on his vocal flood 
Bore the quaint numbers, Syrinx stood entranced 
Upon the rushy fringed banks, and sang, 
From her soft fluty reeds, a sweet response, 
Till all the mountains murmurr'd loud applause. 
These idle tales which came from out the East 
The Tyrian sailors spread along the coast 
Of Palestine, and Cadmus brought to Greece ; 
Where old Musseus worked them into rhymes, 
Which Hesiod made funny stories of, 



( 26 ) 
To cheer his friends in the long Attic nights ; 
And priests and beldames have reechoed them. 
In times when oracles were listen'd to, 
Men nothing knew of the bright stars of heaven , 
But as of lanterns made to throw their light 
On the lorn pilgrim and illume his path : 
The Moons face was regarded as a glass, 
To cast the sunbeams back again to earth. 
Then Pride in her conceit did vainly think 
That the whole world was for her species made ; 
Hope wash'd her dim eyes in the Hippocrene, 
And on the wings of Pegasus took flight, 
And bore her dupes, in fancy, to the skies ! 
In time, the priests and learned sorcerers 
Of Memphis, Balbec and of Babylon, 
A vicious interest in these fables found, 
To hold the spelbound soul of man in awe, 
That, mask'd in shrewd pretense of hallowed ends, 
They might preach Heaven and plunder us on Earth. 
Hence Pluto and the dark Tartarean den, 
The boat of Charon and the Stygian stream, 
In regions where the unquench'd furnace burns. 
There the tir'd Sisyphus' unceasing toils, 
Ixion on his torturing wheel revolves, 
And the Danaides their water pour 
Into the leaky tub that never fills. 
There poor Eurydice, whose luckless step 
Had kill'd the sinuous serpent, in the grass, 
Now expiates the sin of her mischance : 
Midst all that wealth cnrich'd or beauty grac'd, 
That had not paid their ransom to the priest. — 
These stories are a coin, to wily knaves, 
Too precious, for philosophers to filch; 
They paid the supper bill of greedy Bel, 



( 27 ) 
And gave Melchisedech the Dragon's mess. 
But the time comes when Science in her march 
Shall triumph o'er delusion, and set free 
Th'imprison'd soul, and then resume her sway. 
I deny nothing barely possible ; 
All I assert is mans deep ignorance, 
And that the only thing we really know, 
Is the unwelcome truth, that we know nought ! 
Oft when I think of these vast arguments 
Conception swells too big and bursts herself, 
And from her broken womb my wandering thoughts 
Fall down into confusions puzzling maze ; 
And then I doubt the truth of every thing, 
And think myself a lonely monad placed 
Amidst a shadowy theatre of forms 
That have no being outward to myself, 
Which, like the false dreams of a feverish brain, 
Will shortly end in an eternal sleep. 
Tis better then to pass life's little day 
With Amaryllis in her shady bower, 
Or follow Dian to the mountain side, 
With rosy health by temperance sustained; 
And season Nature's boon with sweet content; 
Leaving to ill sustain'd Theology, 
To chase her shadows and invent her dreams. 
When I see good men flourish, just men sway, 
And Virtue only wear the laurel crown; 
When the toil'd ox shall range the field at ease, 
When the tir'd ass secure a quiet stall, 
And suffering Nature find a resting place ; 
Then will I clasp my palms, and on bent knees, 
To a just God will chant my orison. 
But, as we'r far from such a state of bliss, 
I move that we return to whence we came. 



( 28 ) 
P/iiL Pyrrho thy blast of cold philosophy, 
And the dread voice which hath thy doubts convey'd, 
Would freeze the boiling Indus in his bed, 
Shrink up his ebbing tide with icy crust, 
And turn the flood back to its mountain source. 
But thou has spoken, sceptic, and I rise, 
With right reserv'd, to tender my response : — 
And first I call attention to the fact, 
That Nature, handmaid of the unseen Jove, 
Announces his creative power to us, 
And all things outward to the mind itself, 
By means of our frail senses; but the man 
Who distrusts these, and doubts their evidence, 
Questions the Word Divine who speaks to him. 
And he who seeks for proof of simple truth, 
Is, like the dog who at the shadow caught, 
And dropp'd the bone already in his mouth. 
If thou wilt try, by dint of reasoning, 
To prove such things as are selfevident, 
Thy arguments must fall, for want of base ; 
For proof is but recourse to evidence ; 
And where that fail, our reason is at fault ! 
The external world, to each mind once created, 
Is slowly, through the means of living organs, 
By Jove announc'd, who says expressively — 
I am that which I am, unquestion'd truth! 
But when we grapple with first principles, 
We eat the poison of forbidden fruit, 
Which bringeth death to our intelligence I 
When e'er Philosophy would ramble wide 
And wander in that metaphysic maze 
Whose centre the fair tree of knowledge crowns, 
She needs the sleepless watch of Argus eyes, 
To keep the bounds that Nature hath prescribed, 



( 29 ) 
And check her perilous and daring steps. 
Those golden apples of such tempting hue. 
Grown in the garden of the Hesperides, 
That wrinkly wizard Nereus had convey'd, 
From Juba's shores, in his piratic bark, 
Lost their sweet savour in a foreign soil, 
Nor could Minerva self their sap preserve, 
And therefore quickly took them back again, 
And laid them underneath the parent tree. 
There are rich fruits and flowers enough around 
The guarded precincts of this hallow'd plant ; 
Among which Science may luxuriate : 
The russet orchard and the orange grove 
Are hers : but if she touch the fruit forbid, 
Th'avenging angel drives her from the soil, 
Into the darksome cavern of Despair. 
Twas in this horrid cave thou didst conceive 
The frightful notion of monentity, 
And thought thyself a solitary being 
Amidst a theatre of shadowy forms ! 
Who cannot draw a fearful argument, 
From our vain dreams, against th' external world ; 
If, by perversion of philosophy, 
He will confound the visions of light sleep, 
Caused by the unsound workings of the brain, 
With their true archetypes, those waking thoughts 
Which are the heralds of external things ? 
But, Pyrrho, while the expansive mind remain 
Lock'd up in this dim nook of mortal flesh, 
All things appear as in a darkened glass, 
Known but in part, or like obscure reflections 
Of brighter beings in a world unseen. 
But when the bubble burst, th'imprison'd soul, 
Loos'd from her bondage and set free to roam 



( 30 ) 

Thougt realms ethereal, will return to God, 

From whom she sprang ; and then like him will see 

All things in just relation ; and their parts, 

Which now seem so disjointed or unformed, 

May, when the mighty whole be viewed at once, 

Appear compact in perfect harmony. 

Be it our care to keep the mind in poise : 

Some men too little, some too much descry : 

Thou seest no heaven; Orestes saw two suns, 

And doubled Thebes, while thou denied the world. 

The soul of man sits on a dangerous perch, 

Betwixt two deep ravines of jeopardy, 

There ravening Superstition, on her right, 

Is prompt to push her into one abyss : — 

Or brooding Scepticism, on the left, 

So buffets her with her dark prickly plumes , 

That she drops lifeless in the chasm below. 

1 now come to thy second argument, 

And frankly must confess that Good and Evil 

Strangely knit hands and seem to be in league 

To hold divided empire o'er the mind! 

There seems, too, an unequal distribution 

Of pain and ease in this perplexed world. 

Some roll through life in Pleasure's sensual mire, 

Like groveling swine, and guttle to the end. 

Some seem by undeserved chance, to get 

Their worthless heads into the wishing cap 

Of Fortunatus : others Midas like 

With conjurer's fingers turn all things to gold ! 

How easy for some seeming unskill'd hands 

To cut the Gordian knot; or to smooth out 

The snaky tangles of Medusa's locks, 

While oft the tried and too confiding friend 

Shall slip the shirt of Nessus on his back, 



( 31 ) 
And pay, for one ill omen d and false step, 
The woeful penance of a careworn life ! 
But who can foresee the designs of Heaven, 
Or say that what we hastily call evil, 
From our impatience of its irksomeness, 
May not be yet the instrument of good. 
Thinkst thou the brood of ills that bitter life 
Are all without their virtues? — some are sent 
Not as the messengers of angry Jove , 
But with the high commission to fulfd, 
To test our metal and to try our worth. 
Ee'n soaring Genius from his flights would fall, 
If want should cease to urge th'unwilling mind ! 
When Argo cruises for a golden prize 
Care with her thistly falcion boards the deck, 
Climbs the high mast and guides the steersman's helm. 
She bade Triptolemus invent the plough, 
Weed the green corn and bind the yellow sheaves. 
She moves the shuttle and directs the loom : 
And when the flowery mead invites the swain, 
She follows sharpening the whetted scythe, 
Fells the long grass and rakes the haycock round, 
Till the new stack shall crown her sweating brow 7 . 
Care rocks the cradle, Care the toga wears, 
Sharpens the spear, and polishes the shield : 
Care breaks the merchant's sleep and haunts his dreams; 
Care trims the torch of Hymen, rears the child, 
Silvers the old man's beard, and shaves his head; 
And leaves him folded in his winding sheet ! 
It was to soften Care and sooth her pains, 
That Jubal strung the harp and fill'd the world 
With the sweet solace of concordant sounds : 
It was to ease her watch o'er pristine flocks, 
That Jabal did inflate the pastoral reed, 



( 32 ) 
That C orydon now whistles, Thyrsis sings : 
Nor, were it not for courtships careful suit, 
Would Philomel enchaunt us with her song 
And fill with melody the twilight grove! 
Thou hast not shown just cause why we arraign 
Kind Providence for these our earthly pains : 
No one denies that the whole span of life 
Is a woof spun of threads of black and white : 
But this, admitting God's beneficence, 
And power unlimited to do his will, 
At best, but points to some last resting place, 
When or where matters not, in which our ills 
Shall be succeeded by a state of bliss. 
For we may argue thus : such attributes 
As boundless power and goodness unconfined 
Must, of their very essence, vanquish evil. 
Our pains may be but officers of vengeance 
Sent from the seat of Justice, as a scourge; 
But when, her penitential tribute paid, 
We shall be perfect made by sufferance, 
Then will care cease to canker every joy 
The thorn will perish on the living rose, 
And pain dissolve in pleasure unalloyed! 
I grant thee that if Mercy have a seat 
At Jove's high council table, where he sits, 
In Trinal Unity, to frame his laws; 
There must be compensation for the pain 
Which every animal is doom'd to bear, 
Whether subjected to man's cursed sway, 
Or free to roam the forest unrestrained, 
In this mysterious vale of tears below! 
Oft when the labour'd ox o'er come with toil 
Drops in the furrow; when the trammell'd horse 
Falls with his rider on the field of war, 



( 33 ) 
Or the fond dog, with more than human sense, 
Aged and timeworn on a muckheap laid 
Like poor old Argos dies without reward, 
For his long services and faithful watch, 
I feel the antient doctrine to be just 
Which Brahma to the Indian prophets taught, 
That beasts as well as men have angel guards 
Ready hereafter to avenge their wrongs 
And wipe the tears of sorrow from their eyes. 
Why should not every creature rise again 
And be, as their Creator is, immortal ? 
If prophets truly speak, all lost their right 
To immortality by man's disgrace, 
Doom'd like himself to turn again to dust, 
And fatten the curs'd ground whereon they fed ! 
Therefore it seems sound reason to conclude 
That they like man shall be restor'd again ; 
Tis not a thought of Fancy's fickle brain 
That every creature, bird, beast, fish or fly, 
Shall rise to an immortal state of bliss, 
Tis a deduction which Philosophy 
From Gods own attributes is free to draw, 
And which the universal voice of men, 
In every clime, from Thebes to Thule's isle 
Hath well confirm'd by their wise oracles. 
This holy doctrine of eternal being, 
Whose origin in time's vast night is lost, 
Must be coeval with our lot of death. 
For who could brook the thought that life's queer dream 
Would end in sleep eternal, and live on ? 
Would man not rather do the work himself 
Of the three sisters, and divide the thread 
By which the Parcse tie him to existence, 
And sink at once its follies and its pains 



( 34 ) 
In the abyss ? Who could consent to live. 
Tenant at will, without inheritance, 
In such a shadowy and uncertain world ; 
Where every thing man sets his heart upon 
Or deems his own, is rudely snatch'd away; 
And in direct proportion as he prizes 
Each object dear, and on it plumes himself, 
Fate marks it as her prey, and bears it off, 
On falcon's wings, to her unknown abode! 
Thus Hector from Andromache was torn 
Because he lov'd her, and she sooth'd his cares, 
While that old shrew Xantippe long was spared 
To try th'endurance of her patient lord. 
Had Hero forecast her Leander's doom 
Would she have beacon d him o'er Hellespont? 
Nay, sweet Musseus, thou would have recorded 
Not love but suicide : for they would rather 
Have plunged together in the fatal flood ! 
While here on life's rough sea our bark is tossed 
The expectation of some rest to come , 
Some harbour safe, or bay of rich delights 
Sustains our labour'd arms to ply the oar. 
But if our prospect were the watery grave, 
And Hope at our sheet ancre stood no more^ 
What hand would set the braces, reef a sail, 
Or rig a jurymast : t'were better far 
To run our skiff right smack against a rock, 
And bid her sable pennant be her shroud. 
When Epimetheus op'ed the fatal box 
Of rich Pandora, charged with every woe, 
Right well he knew the past with evil fraught, 
And shut the lid in time to stay young Hope; 
Her he detain'd with amorous dalliance 
To be the solace of his anxious hours; 




( 35 ) 
Her sweet ambrosial kisses seal'd his lips ; 
And press'd in her entrancing fond embrace, 
He drank the vital nectar from her eyes, 
And for a moment lost the sense of ill. 
But when Prometheus, who the future knew, 
Spurn'd the rich presents offer'd by the Gods, 
They angry, bound him to the granite rock 
Of Caucasus ; that there the vulture's beak 
Should gnaw his liver to the end of time: 
Nor was he thence released till he foretold 
That Thetis should produce a mighty son, 
More potent than his father, to bring back 
The age of gold and rule the world in peace ! 
To this dilemma, Pyrrho, we are come; 
Either tradition's oracles are true, 
Or, being false, for aught than man can tell , 
Life's meteor flame may soon dissolve itself 
In airy mist that leaves no rack behind. 
This thought would paralyze strong Sampson's back 
And make him let the gates of Gaza fall : 
If cannot be! I feel, within, a spark 
An undivided consciousness of mind , 
Compar'd with which the universal mass 
Of matter sinks to something less than nought. 
Substance, if such there be, may change its forms, 
And from the site of Nineveh may spring 
A desert wood the den of hungry wolves ; 
Ecbatana may change her sevenfold walls 
For the rude pens of Scythian robber's flocks. 
And Babylon may crumble to the dust : 
Palmyra with her marble pillar'd fanes 
May be a mass of columns ruinous 
And frown upon the desert sands alone; 
But the vast crowds that animate their streets 



( 56 ) 
Will pass to life eternal, losing nought 
Of personal identity of self, 
Whether they recollect, or not, this mortal scene 
That all creation hath sustain'd a fall 
Each nation testifies ; each fable tells. 
The fruit that Eve to tempted Adam gave 
Was thy false reason and rebellious pride. 
For disobedience of the law divine, 
The tree was blasted in its topmost bough. 
As the forbidden kiss which Pyramus, 
Neath the white mulberry, to Thisbe gave, 
Dyed its fair berries with a purple stain. 
So oian's first sin transmits a mortal taint 
To all that live, and fills the earth with woe ; 
And though we neither know the great design, 
Nor why Jove should be pleas'd to suffer evil 
Yet there are signs of the catastrophe ; — 
Of Nature's overthrow; — and I contend 
That we are well entitled to regard 
The universal voice of every age 
And nation, as the test of certain truth. 
I hold it also just to reason thus; — 
Since equity is Jove's well balanc'd rule, 
He who hath all to give, must give to all 
The largest gift that each can well accept : 
There can be no amount of living beings 
Too great, nor yet too various their forms, 
For endless time and boundless space to hold ! 
Therefore tis piety to give to God 
The will to found an universal heaven, 
When earths' vile dross be burnt and purge'd away, 
And all things to their consummation come. 
Tis also sound philosphy : but Pride 
Would fain monopolize her paradise, 






( 57 ) 
And hence the strange repugnance reason finds, 
In yielding slow consent to her conceits. 
Fearing to break that strict analogy 
Which binds us to ascribe the like effects 
To causes similar ; and teaches man 
To rank himself with other kindred beings, 
In species various, but in kind the same, 
Sharing with them the common lot of death 
Or immortality ! — But it were wise, 
In this vast doubt, — to be or not be ? — 
Had we no certain grounds for trust in Heaven, 
To take that side where consolation lies, — 
And hold to the opinion of great Plato, 
And those wise councils that in every age, 
Light by tradition's lamp, have well decided 
Deaths narrow jaws to be the prison door 
Through which th'immortal soul is doom'd to pass, 
From life's dark dungeon, to a world of light ! 
Cherish'dthisthought,whichpureeyedFaithpropounds 
And Hope sustains on her bright gilded wings, 
Man feels the excellence of his creation, 
And deems himself more noble than before, 
Seeking with Charity on earth to dwell, 
And, in her train, forcast the joys of heaven ! 
Therefore I move that we proceed and try 
If, by due steps, we may aspire to learn 
The sure conditions of this mighty boon. 

Pal. Philostratus, thy logic hath prevail'd 
And I decide that we should forward go. 
But lo the sun is su nk, and Hesperus 
Scatters the rear of twilight in the north. 
Night drags along apace her sable car : 
Twin Castor and twin Pollux have already 
Hung out their lights of ominous import 



( 38 ) 
Following each other up the eastern way. 
Tis time our steps to quicken, while the star 
Is yet the pilot of our devious course. 

Da. Thyrsis then call the dogs, each to his charge, 
And we shall leave these our unfolded flocks, 
Till our return , to uncorrupted guards. 

Thyrsis* Hither then Mopse, Jet, Melampe, Fox, 
Trim, Hector, Pompey, and thou Cerberus, 
Whose dragon ward would mock thy namesake's eyes, 
And drown the deep tones of his triple tongue, 
Hark, hark away, — see what intelligence 
Beams in their eyes : each knows his masters lambs; 
And in their honest faces all declare 
The safe protection of their unbrib'd watch. 

Scene IV. — Shepherd and Sheperdess sing, and the rest join the Chorus 
aided by their barking Dogs. 

Vespers lamp now bids us fold 
Beaming o'er yon mountain cold : 
Hark I hear the wether's bell 
Tinkling in the shadowy dell, 
Lowing herds and bleating flocks, 
Echoed from the sounding rocks, 
Browse upon the purple heath, 
And bite the green turf underneath, 
Now the milkmaid blythe and gay, 
Sings, across the flowery lea, 
To the wild bee's evening hum, 
Or the hoary beetle's drum. 

Chorus ; Hylax noiv the chorus join, 
Mix thy sonorous base with mine (etc.) 
O'er the dewy twilight lawn 
Hark the grayfly winds his horn, 
Dapper fairies join around 



( 39 ) 
Their airy hands and beat the ground, 
With'quips and cranks and nodding head, 
Tripping o'er the daisy's bed, 
And, in silvery tinsell'd shoon, 
Dance their morris to the moon, 
While the plaintive Philomel 
Her murder'd Itys doth bewail, 
And sorrow'd Aedon tells to us 
The story of sad Itylus. 

Chorus. Hylax now the chorus join, 
Mix thy sonorous base with mine, (etc.) 
Shepherds join the noisy choir, 
Sound the timbrel, strike the lyre, 
Corin on his pipe shall play, 
And Marian sing her roundelay, 
To lull the folded flocks to sleep, 
While faithful dogs their vigils keep, 
Shepherds songs, my boys, were sung, 
Before Erato's harp was strung, 
Or skilful Orpheus tun'd the lute, 
Or Hermes blew his magic flute 
That had such wondrous power to close 
The Watchman's eyes in safe repose. 

Chorus. Hylax now the chorus join, 
Mix thy sounding base with mine, (etc.) 
By aged Argus servant true 
That his return'd Ulysses knew ; 
By the dogs that Hesiod bore 
Mangled from thVEtolian shore; 
By bearded Loski's yellow eyes 
And shaggy Busy's hairy guise; 
By silky Poski's spotted hose, 
And fuzzy Zante's wolly nose; 
By Tobits cur to Heaven remov'd, 



( 40 ) 
And bousie Shargs of all belov'd, 
Pales now we beg of thee 
To keep our folds from peril free. 

Chorus. Hylax now our Chowis join, 
Mix thy sonorous base with mine, 
And say good bye before we go, 
While honest Tray cries bow wow wow. 
Thundering Ringwood, Jowler bold 
Fangs and Stentor guard the fold, 
Then bark farewell before we go 
While honest Tray says bow woiv wow. 

Menalcas apostrophizes. 

Jupiter, who would not be a dog 

The honest sentinel of some rude fold, 

Bribeless and constant as the starry host 

That keep their vigils in the vault of heaven; 

Nor shut their watchful eyes, but when the veil 

Of earth's rank vapours o'er their light is drawn : 

Rather than fill the highest post that kings, 

On their hir'd servants can, in courts, confer : 

Surely when Jove from heaven his curse pronounc'd, 

And in corruption bid all Nature sink, 

He made exception of the watchdog's heart ! 

While Galatea doth her charge neglect 

To play with Colin in the apple grove, 

Hylax ne'er quits the trust in him reposed, 

But sturdy stands and drives the wolf away. 

While the poor soldier, at Bellona's call, 

Fights for his country, on a foreign land ; 

The faithless wife betrays her absent lord, 

Squanders his store, and banquets treacherous friends; 

But mark the conduct of the faithful dog 

Fatigued and hungry, yet refusing food, 



( 41 ) 

He silent sits, listing to every sound, 

And with quick nose each cranny fairly tries, 

Where with his master he was wont to roam, 

Sniffling and snowking all the country round, 

Till he discerns at length his distant steps; 

Then with his honest bark and pranks of joy, 

He wags his tail and kindly greets him home. 

Should I, Persephone ! thy favour find, 

And in Elysium gain a blest abode, 

Grant that fond Tray may bear me company, 

And be my partner in eternal bliss ! 

Lucian. Jog on, jog on, and quicken every step 
For I am weary of this pilgrimage, 
And can descry, in yonder tangled glen 
Of aged elms, the garb of wassailers, 
Doing some mystic rites to rustic Gods 
Hark hark, the sound of mirth and merriment, 
Falls on my ear, haste to the lucky spot, 
And try if we may in their chorus join. 

Scene V. — An area amidst a wood in which Bacchanals are seen cele- 
brating the Brumalia. The pilgrims halt to observe them. Menalcas 
opens the discourse. 

Mew. What means, Damoetas, this uproarious group 
Of Wassailers at such an hour of night; 
This blaze of torchlight that doth scare the owl 
From her dark leafy perch among the trees ? 

Da. I know not, shepherd, less it be the wake 
That Bacchus and his crew are wont to keep, 
At this dark season of the sleeping year, 
When Care and Toil hybernate, and rude Mirth 
Drinks nectar from the rosey crowned bowl. 

Luc. Who knows not Bacchus and his followers ? 
But how came he who is of eastern growth, 



( 42 ) 
A sojourner on Juda's hallowed soil ? 

Da. Some say, and I believe the story true, 
That when Osiris was by Typhon slain 
Orpheus for him obtain'd, by power of song, 
An everlasting place among the gods. 
But when fair Science chang'd her first abode 
And took a westering course towards the sea, 
The great ^Egyptian king her march pursued, 
Left the deserted Nile and came to Greece, 
There midst the flowerykirtled Nymphs and groups 
Of ivy wreath'd Bacchantes, who were wont 
To hold their midnight revels with the swains, 
And sing their mad song to the wandering moon, 
He held his court, on Ladon's lilied banks, 
Where the sweet bird of night, from Daphne's bower, 
Besponsive sings to every vocal reed 
That on the margin of the river grows. 
This was his daily sport and country gear, 
Till Hora gave him Venus for a bride, 
She, fond to see his ruddy cheeks inflame, 
And his eyes sparkle with the fire of love, 
From the ripe grape the maddening liquor press'd, 
And gave its poison in a crystal glass. 
And then again, by power of wine deformed, 
He became brute and took a swinish form, 
Mortal, and subject to all earthly pains; 
Delighting in his own disfigurement 
And prowd that he had godly reason lost! 

Me. But it seems strange, at least to my youngthoughts, 
That beauty's queen should so misuse the gifts 
Of bounteous Nature, as to link herself, 
By carnal ties, to such a wassailer 

Da. Her history, to those who have chaste ears 
Is not so difficult to understand : — 



( 43 ) 
When angry Saturn hurled the mangled limbs 
Of old Uranus down into the sea, 
He wrote the words " encrease and multiply" 
On every member of the ethereal God, 
Which, by the Fates directed, chanced to fall 
Among the fleet of Sirens, whose sweet voice 
Floats nightly o'er the calm unruffled bay 
Of dear Parthenope ; she, with chaste lips 
Softly repeating the prolific spell, 
Threw the charm'd fragments on the Ocean's foam, 
Which soon begot upon the silvery froth 
A lovelier form than Nature yet had seen; 
Thus Venus rose most graceful and most fair, 
Naked and reeking from the watery bed 
Of Amphitrite, and with such grace adorn d, 
Such sweetly chasten'd symmetry of parts 
And such alluring looks of fond desire, 
That the coy sea Nymphs could not gaze on her 
Without the envious blush of angry shame, 
Then scaly Triton blew his sounding shell, 
O'er the rough sea, and smooth'd the billows down, 
And Glaucus, heedless now of Scylla's charms 
Rush'd through the waves to kiss her lovely lips. 
Then Neptune wav'd his trident o'er the brine, 
And bad the Nereids doff their sapphire crowns, 
Unfurl their little flags, and rang'd in rows, 
Bend their prowd heads before the Queen of Love. 
Her birth Vesuvius to the Earth proclaim'd 
Firing the beacon on his mountain peak, 
While thundering JEtna, in a cloud of smoke, 
Bore the great tidings to the court of Heaven. 
But the rapt Mermaid, such is beauty's power, 
. Died of its sudden blaze of loveliness : 
And falling on the beach, was there entomb'd , 



( U ) 

By the Eubcean mariners, who rais'd 

A mighty city on that sacred spot 

And gave her Naples for a sepulchre. 

There the sleek Panope may still be seen 

Guarding the Phrygian ships from nightly storm. 

That, freighted from the Idumaean port, 

Brought rich Fortuna riding on the prow 

Ready, from her o'erladen horn profuse 

To pour a plenitude of Nature's gifts 

On the birth place of beauty's paragon. 

Soon every bark, from the remotest clime, 

Came and cast anchor in this lively bay, 

Bearing each ornament by Venus lov'd, 

The shawls of Cashmere, and rich Ophir's gold; 

Blue turquois and the verdant emerald , 

Clear sapphire stone, and purpling amethyst, 

Onyx and crystal and the eastern ruby, 

With sparkling quartz, unrivall'd diamond 

And every gem that lavish beauty wears, 

And fabulous Hydaspes on the sands 

Of Nysa, from his treasur'd billow, throws, 

Nor less all scents and odorous perfumes, 

The musk of Tibet and sweet frankinsense 

Woundhealing balsam, and the bleeding Myrrh 

Fresh cascarilla and gum benzoin 

And all the spices of the Indian isles 

Nutmeg and ginger and sweet cinnamon, 

And every fruit Pomona has in store, 

The red pomegranate and the lushious fig, 

The golden orange and the lemon pale, 

The Lybian cocoa and Argolic pear, 

Besides a lavish store of fruits preserv'd, 

From farthest China, hither come to mix 

Their sweets with native Hybla's honied hives. 



( 45 ) 
Perch'd on the rigging of these beauteous ships 
Sat parrots , parroquets and cockatoos 
Tufted maccaws and birds of Paradise, 
Sleek pheasants and Ismene's plumy love 
That in his fine tail opes a hundred eyes. 
With Lesbian sparrows and soft turtle doves 
Her own true charioteers, ready to land, 
And, in green bowers of twisted eglantine 
O'er canopied with the rich clustering grape , 
To fan fair Cytheraa with their wings, 
Or bear her chariot through the balmy air. 
Fir'd by a novel flame, each Naiad tried 
To emulate production's recreant queen, 
Nor were the mountains nor the woods less mov'd ? 
By just ambition beauteous to appear : 
Oreades and Hamadryades, 
Wood Nymphs and Dryads and Potamides 
Strove with intent to reach her peerless charms. 
Each morning sitting on bright agate rocks 
Ligea might be seen, with golden comb 
Sleeking her auburn hair; while in the woods 
Swart Dry ope bound up her locks of jet 
With the oak wreath or sweet briar or moss rose; 
And every Nymph some garb attractive sought; 
Such was her power who taught the Earth to love; 
Nor was in Heaven, her influence less felt, 
To soften stern Minerva's learned brow, 
And add a lustre new to Juno's eyes. 
Oft have I heard Corycius relate 
That, when first Venus reach'd the Cyprian shore, 
Riding upon the charmed amorous surge, 
Cymothoe, on rapid waves, pursu'd, 
Enchanted; and with ready fingers comb'd 
The tanglets of her amber drooping hair 



( 46 ) 
When each stray lock that on the ground did fall, 
Was changed into a little streaky plant 
Which botanists have called trichomanes 
And village girls describe as maidenhair. 
But to return to the sad tale, Menalcas, 
The goddess was at first as chaste as snow, 
And comely as the flower that bears her name, 
Wherein she used, as in a looking glass, 
Daily to gaze on her unblemish'd form : 
Till the blackveiPd Gotytto , envious 
Of charms to which all mortals homage paid, 
And e'en the Gods pour'd forth their madrigals, 
Seduc'd her, from her rural habitation 
In sylvan shades blest by the bounteous Pan, 
To Corinth, and in her bewitching halls 
Taught her to move her limbs in wanton dance 
And roll with Lais on a sensual couch, 
There with quaint words of flattering courtesy 
She gained the heart of fair Callipyga, 
And made her soon her duty chaste forget, 
And loose her zone to every idle fop, 
That haunts her temple, in night's dangerous hour, 
Till Bacchus felt himself the proper guard 
Of her now fading charms, and hence their union : — 

Lucian. But hold, for I perceive the noisy crew 
Down in yon tangled glen of ivied elms 
And I would fein be of their company 

Me. I can see nothing, for this witching tale 
Hath bound up all my senses in a trance. 

Da. 1 can discern if thou canst not, Menalcas, 
For my old sight is still to distance true, 
Through yon long alleys of o'erarching firs 
Lit by a thousand lamps of colour'd hues, 
The mad procession moving in a train, 



( 47 ) 
Old Liber, with Silenus by his side, 
Guides his rude car, deck't with the clustering grape, 
By leopards and the streaky tiger drawn. 
And that vast parlour circled by tall trees, 
And lattic'd by the tendrils of the vine, 
Is sure set out for some abhorred homage 
That he, so skill'd in pleasure's magic arts, 
With his lov'd partner, pays to Hecate 
Drowning his swinish snout in Circe's cup; 
With his wild gang of Satyrs ; but hark now 
They sing : let us then listen to their song. 

Song of drunken Bacchanals , with a Chorus of loud instruments. 

Circle round ye merry souls 
Crown with joy the wassail bowls, 
Comus and his noisy crew 
Nightly here their rites renew, 
Fill your bumpers, sit around, 
This is Circe's charmed ground ; 
Phoebe reels with tipsy steps, 
And wets in wine her parched lips, 
Fill with punch the crystal glass, 
Every lad shall toast his lass ; 
While Plenty shall supply the bowl, 
Drink, O drink, each joyous soul ! 

Chorus. Hark ye minstrels hither come, (etc.) 
With arms akimbo Momus stands 
And holds his sides with both his hands, 
And laughing, says with waggish head, 
Go, weeping Niobe, to bed ; 
Mawkish Prudence get thee hence, 
With wrinkled Care, and sober Sense, 
Advise, and dull Morality, 



( 48 ) 

What have we now to do with ye ? 
You may budge and go to sleep, 
Hecate doth her virgils keep ; 
Swill'd Bacchantes beat the giound, 
And the merry toast goes round. 

Chorus. Hark ye minstrels hither come, (etc.) 
Delius, there with downward haste, 
Sinks in the wet Favonian waste, 
Crouching neath the Arctic pole, 
Churlish watery supper'd soul, 
Content to take his sober glass 
With Neptune and Oceanus : 
While yawning Night almost asleep 
Follows his course into the deep, 
Riding in her ebon chair, 
And gazing on the northern Bear ; 
Till startled by the scrieching owl, 
Morn peeps from out her shady cowl. 

Chorus. Hark ye minstrels hither come, (etc.) 
We, that are of purer mettle, 
Imitate the pot and kettle, 
Round the bonfire duly set, 
Singing, as we warmer get, 
And like the kettle and the pot, 
We scold and hiss, when we get hot, 
Till running o'er with boiling rage, 
We fume and thus our heat assuage. 
So here's a health to father Lot, 
Who his own salted wife forgot ; 
And here's to all the Muses nine, 
And may they all be sous'd in wine ! 

Chorus. Hark ye minstrels hither come, (etc.) 
Come young Psyche, welcome Love, 
We shall soon from Heaven above, 



( 49 ) 
Such a mighty monarch have, 
As old Israel's cause shall save; 
He will conquer Caesar's arms, 
So now dispel your vain alarms, 
In generous wine your troubles drown, 
And put on Ariadne's crown, 
Which our king Bacchus on her head 
Plac'd, when Phoebus went to bed ; 
For drawing out, in elder days, 
Her Theseus from the tangled maze. 

Chorus. Hark ye minstrels hither come, (etc.) 
Circe and the God of wine, 
Now we feel your power divine, 
Now the luscious purpling fount 
To our enchanted brain doth mount : 
We are mad, and we must soon 
Make a jump and kiss the Moon ; 
Should she our proferr'd homage spurn, 
Like fond Endymion, we must burn, 
Those who from the frying pan 
Leap out, and try the grate to span, 
Are often baulk'd in such desire, 
And tumble headlong in the fire ! 

Chorus. Hark ye minstrels hither come, (etc.) 
But see yon streak of amber light 
Now lines the sable robe of Night, 
And mov'd by Zephyrs gentle breath 
The harebell quivers on the heath, 
Soon the orient Sun shall blaze 
In his bright panoply of rays, 
And we must to our shrowds repair, 
So drink good night boys while we dare; 
For hark the third alectrophone 
Now bids us put our nightcaps on; 



( so ) 

Drowsy, sleep then banish sorrow, 
We tap another cask tomorrow ! 

Chorus. Hark, then minstrels, hither come, 
Sound the Cymbals, beat the drum, 
Health shall crown the flowing bowl, 
And give new life to every soul. 
Fill the goblet to the brim 
Pleasure loves in wine to sivim 
With Falernum, Joy shall come 
And Mirth with sparkling Ccecubum 
Hark how oft the cock doth crow 
Who cares for cock a doodle doo 
Bloiv the horn, the trumpet sound, 
And let the merry toast go round. 

Scene VI. — TJie Pilgrimage proceeds and encounters Venus holding her 
court on the other side the way, amidst a chorus of Graces and 
nymphs. 

Da.Straightforward,shepherds;forourcoursedothlie 
Along bewitched ground : here in this glen, 
Stands Circe offering her poison'd bowl 
To the unwary traveller ; while there 
Fair Venus with the Graces holds her court 
Midst the light Sylphs, and nosegay bosom'd Hours, 
And in full chorus leads the jocund dance, 
Under yon palmy canopy ; through which 
The moons leafchequer'd light so softly falls 
Upon their beauteous and quick moving forms, 
That Cynthia self might seem to play her part 
And wanton with their changing attitudes ! 
But such allurement is most dangerous 
To votarists, in pilgrim's weeds yclad, 
That strive to close the inlet doors of sense 
Against such witcheries and dangerous joys, 



( V ) 
That ihe pure soul in her own council room 
May sit and hold sweet converse with the Gods. 
Therefore make haste and let us hence begone. 

Me. Stay yet a while ; what harm could us betide > 
Should we sit down on this green grassy turf, 
And with some cooling wine our thirst allay 
That so refresh't we might their chorus join 
With vigorous steps to dance amidst the throng ? 

Melibceus. I had no forecast to untie my tongue, 
To all things peace preferring, but the danger 
Of such swilFd sorcerers, and alluring sports, 
Galls loudly on sage pastors to beware 
And tender their advise to younger hinds 
Such sounds as these would cut the chattering string 
Of iEgles, and make Silence ope her mouth. 
I say advance not ; this vine latticed maze 
With poppies and narcissus planted round 
Is but Arachne's treacherous web, Menalcas, 
Spread out to catch the incautious traveller 
And draw him into snares : should he be caught 
And the sweet venom of that cup should taste 
Then Pleasure marks him for her captive ; then 
He in her eagle talons once secured 
Lies spelbound, loving her who him enthrall'd, 
And in sweet struggles of mad agony 
Lays his whole soul and virtue at her feet; 
Like the enchanted bee, who for a flower, 
Parts with her weapons and her life at once ! 
Let us return ; see old Iacchus there 
Sits on one side, drunk with the maddening grape, 
While Venus, on the other, to her bower 
Of fragant blooms, invites the giddy youth : 
Betwixt them, who shall steer \ he that sails wide 
To clear Charybdis, falls on Scylla's jaws ? 



( 52 ) 
Dor. Tis wanting, then, a pilot, Meliboeus ; 
We have a loadstar in the eastern sky 
Scattering its rays about our devious road, 
To light our bark ; as if kind Heaven itself 
Had stoop'd to earth to give us safe convoy. 
Thou has mistaken strangely the intent 
Of these enchantments : tis to test our strength 
That we are tried : but once the conquest made 
Over the stubborn obstacles of will, 
Our way is certain and our path secure. 
He who hath sent the tiger; also gave 
The porcupine her panoply of quills : 
If Love hath power, Chastity can steel 
The softest hearts against his darts of straw. 
Thus Joseph when his honour was besieg'd, 
Unchanged by love, threw his Proteian coat 
Into the arms of his fond paramour, 
But bore away his heart unstaind and free 

Me.But hark what concord from their chorus comes, 
Floating beneath Nights vaulted sounding board 
O stay awhile and hear their charming lay : 
And rest upon yon odorous violet bank 
Set round with wild thyme and sweet honeysuckle ; 
The dying accents of these lovely strains 
Will lull our lids to rest ; and when the cock 
Shall sound his clarion shrill and wake the morn, 
It will be time enough, with limbs refresh'd 
By balmy slumbers, to resume our course. 

Venn* and the Graces dance accompanied by various nymphs, and the 
Muses sitting round, sing in chorus. 

Come, palmer, to this charming land, 
Where Grace and Venus hand in hand. 
And Beauty in brilliants richly dight 



( S3 ) 

Are keeping the vigil of Love to night. 

Now /Egle trips as free as air 

And shakes her hyacinthine hair 

Thalia now leaves her rustic glade 

To dance in the moon's pale woodland shade 

Where dimplecheek'd Euphrosyne, 

The sweetest of the Graces three, 

Along the grassplot lightly skips, 

And quickens her sister's measured steps. 

Here surely, wanderer, you can find 

Some pretty partner to your mind, 

Phyllodoce queen of the rural bower 

Now moves like a sylph of the twilight hour. 

Whose sparkling eyes and locks of jet, 

And teeth like pearls in coral set, 

Invite the bee that fondly sips 

The honey from her rosy lips. 

Or choose Selene tall and fair 

With azure eyes and auburn hair 

Endow'd with Hellena's Grecian head 

And Tyrian Dido's graceful tread. 

Who wears a crown of Jewells bright 

Wrought of the firefly's diamond light 

And dances along the morass damp 

Where ever the glow worm lights her lamp. 

But if town beauties you prefer, 

Take sly Corinna and toy with her 

She's skill'd in the arts to patch and paint 

And to give to her cheeks a vermillion taint: 

Take Glycera shining in every grace, 

Or Opis proud of her handsome face, 

Or Leucothea, whose sweet recompense, 

Is to breath the spirit of frankinsense; 

Napsea doth now her zone unloose 



( 54 ) 
And opens a channel for Arethuse; 
While Sylvia chaunts with her mellow voice 
"Gome haste to the bower and take your choice." 

Chorus. Come Polyhymnia deign to sing, 
Thalia shall loudly sweep to string, 
Terpsichore briskly draw the bow, 
And Clio her winding bugle blow, 
Let Erato touch her cithern's chord 
Calliope flourish her trumpet loud, 
Melpomene sigh to the plaintive lute, 
And sweet Euterpe play on the flute, 
Till blest Urania strikes her lyre 
Strung with Apollo's rays of fire : 
And bids the spirits above bestow 
Their praises on Concord reigning below 
Bravo to the chorus of Love, bravo ! 
Hark, Echo to Harmony cries bravo ! 
Me. hill of Helicon, and thou laurell'd mount 
Parnassus that Deucalion's bark did bear, 
Bid the sweet Echo, from Tithorea's brow, 
That strain repeat , and from her airy shell, 
Scatter its charms around this country wide ; 
That we may find the music of that song 
In every cottage, grotto, or mountain lodge, 
That in our long and perilous road may lie, 
And offer rest to our tir'd wayworn steps : 
Or let me rest in spirit, on thy top, 
Like Noah's ark, left by life's angry waves 
On a firm prop ; and let the Paphian dove 
Bring the green branch : then in Parnassian dreams, 
Which frolic Fancy from dull Slumber steals, 
Give me to court the smiles of that sweet Nymph, 
And in some cool alcove, or jasmin bower 
Untie her girdle and enjoy her love ! 



( 55 ) 
That the fond visions of uirvvitness'd night 
May mimic joys which garish day denies. 
Da. youth these thoughts are foreign to our cause 
And dangerous inmates of a pilgrim's heart. 
If thou wouldst clamber Virtue's rugged hill, 
Thou must not turn to either hand, Menaleas, 
But look strait forward like the unicorn : 
The capering fawn that bounds from side to side 
Hath little force to throw down obstacles 
Or daunt its foes : but what can well withstand 
The torrent rush of the rhinoceros? 
These Dionysians have ill understood 
The Sybils voice who prophecied of Pan ; 
They think a temporal monarch is at hand 
And think to celebrate his reign on earth 
With Lupercalia, and such dangerous rites 
As to the fane of Sensuality 
Belong ; disciples of old Epicurus 
And his false school of vain philosophers. 
But who comes here in hairy mantle clad 
Girdled his loins, and in his hand a crutch, 
As if he laboured with infirmity. 
Or to some shrine dragg'd on his aged limbs. 
See by yon sundial hard beside our road 
He musing stands, and meditates thereon : 
They say that age confers prophetic power. 
Let us his accents catch and, profitting 
By their import, a lesson take from eld. 

Apostrophe of the old Man to the Dial. 

Ah what is what ? — to know the which, they say, 

Is better than abstruse philosophy! 

I gaze upon this Dial, and behold 

That a dark line moves round its measured disk 



( 56 ) 

Marking the sun's course in the vault of heaven. 

But what is Time thus parcell'd : — what is Time ? 

This furrowed visage; and this silver'd head, 

These tottering steps, dim sense, and bended loins 

Prove that he bites with an unerring tooth, 

But leave his fearful nature unexplor'd ! 

Some say that Time is an ephemera 

That with his brother Space is doom'd to sport 

In the vast breath of great Eternity ! 

That each mans time and space are but as motes 

That in the sunbeams in such myriads play. 

Or like the sparks from the Chimera's lungs. 

Others pretend that these queer motes are eggs 

Which being hatch'd, by some strange temporal heat, 

Will turn to beings of unmeasur'd life. 

But the shadowy line still moving on 

Proves that this enemy, if such he be, 

W^aits not for man, but straitway battle gives 

Refusing us all truce and breathing time. 

O Jupiter, the world is all a dial! 

And life an hourglass whose uncertain grains 

Are quickly sped ! — but who shall turn it up 

When it be spent, and bid it run again ? 

Or if this power to renovate our sand 

Were possible ; what would its value be ? 

Unless the hand, that turn'd it , were time proof 

And had a ceaseless power of recreation ! 

Therefore I hold thee cheap O father Time 

And do esteem thee only as a bridge, 

Across the gulph, to thy great parent's home, 

Ah me ! the day of life is but a dial ! 

The cock crows, and we rise, and say : 'tis Morn ; 

The soft and pallid light steals o'er the hills, 

Then comes Aurora in her saffron stole, 



( 57 ) 

And then the Sun, midst the red liveried clouds 

Opens the view, and then we say, 'tis Day ! 

Then, mounting to his height, he scans the heavens, 

And then we say, 'tis Noon ; sometime has passed 

Between each change, and in Time's stream all floats : 

Then longer shadows cool the waning day, 

And then we say, it is the Afternoon. 

And then sad Even spreads her duskie shroud, 

And the loud owl doth cry ; and then we say, 

Evening draws on ; and then the light withdrawn 

Leaves but the lanterns of the starry pole, 

That shine in countless millions o'er our heads, 

And then we say, 'tis Night ; let watchdogs bark, 

And let us sleep, and gain another morn. 

And thus Time rolls along till all is lost. 

Of this most strange and everchanging scene 

Of mortal life ; and when the whole is sped, 

What boots our joys or sorrows, less we gain 

By their well timed and well placed discipline, 

Thy timeless spaceless meed Eternity ! 

Thy joys of every sense, and thousands more, 

Relationless to Time s and Space's bounds ! 

The pensive mind who thinks of this, and asks 

Why Anything exists, and what is Anything ? 

And what is Nothing ? What is Cause and change ? 

Whence we have come , who live and feel and move ? 

And whither go to, at the mortal change 

Called Death ? but feels the insignificanc, 

Of what vain man still deems Philosophy, 

And like the holy saint cries for Eternity, 

And waits to know it ! and like a faulty Effect, 

Who scarcely dares address the Mighty Cause , 

He to the Living Fountain of All Mercies 

Devoutly lifts the wondering soul in prayer, 

And says , u Conduct me to Eternity ! "- — s. 



(58 ) 

Scene VII. — Discovers the stall at Bethlehem wherein Mary is nursi.^ 
the Infant, while Joseph the reputed father stands by her side, an 
ox and an ass being in the same stable. The wise men from the 
east in pompous procession successively come and offer (heir gifts, each 
invoicing his Muse. Philostralus opens the discourse in an address to 
(he Grecian pilgrims. 

Phil. Behold, my friends, the radiant star doth set 
O'er yonder stall and crown it with its beams : 
Beneath yon roof the Infant Pan is laid 
In a rude manger, where the ox and ass 
Are feeding, after their long day of toil. 
This is a scene fit for the proud man's gaze, 
Who vainly thinks the world was made for him. 
This birth of Pan, the mighty lord of all, 
In a low grot that shelters humble hinds, 
Portends some doctrine new, as yet unknown 
To the proud tyrants of the enslaved earth 
And big with consequence to Rome herself. 
Thou didst say, Pyrrho, and I mark'd thy words, 
That when the tired ox and and patient ass, 
After their work, should find a place of rest 
And harass'd Nature a secure repose, 
Thou wouldst then chaunt thy orison to heaven 
And cease with tongue profane to blaspheme Jove. 
Behold in yonder stall thy vow achiev'd, 
The son of Heaven in a rude manger laid, 
Of God and of a lowly Virgin born, 
Hath for his company the ox and ass ! 
Patting their flanks th'astonish'd Joseph stands, 
And views his maiden and unblemish'd spouse 
Nursing the King of King's Eternal Son. 
Is this not, even for thy doubts, enough ? 
When Jove himself shall stretch the strawy thatch 
Over the beast, and under the same roof, 
Shall lodge his own anointed, with a brute ! 



( 59 ) 

Pyrrho. Wemustyet more of this new doctrine learn, 
Let us then catch its spirit from the songs 
Of the wise men who, turn by turn, come down, 
Offering their gift, and with prophetic song, 
Invite each Muse to aid their serenade. 

The first sage invokes his Muse and offers gifts. 

Hail learned Muse, good morrow 

Child of Mnemosyne with laurel crown'd, 

From thy loud trumpet, sound 
The first glad tiding to this world of sorrow, 
That Belzebub must fly 
Again to his dark dungeon under ground, 

Nor shall Death more be found 
With vulturine beak to swallow us all up; 

Soon shall his bitter cup 
By the world's mighty monarch be drunk dry. 
Virgin, I anoint thy feet, 
With nard and balm and cassia sweet ; 
For so soon as thou shall tread 
On the subtil serpent's head, 
He shall gape his jaws withall, 
And let the poison'd apple fall : 
Pride and concupiscence brought 
Sin into the world, and wrought 
A mortal change in human lot, 
When men Jehovah's laws forgot, 
And sought to make themselves as wise 
As the monarch of the skies : 
But pain and sorrow, and the sting 
Of death, which married Eve did bring, 
From the world shall quickly fly 
When touch' d by true Virginity. 



( 60 ) 
And all Creation, then set free, 
Shall again immortal be. 

The second Sage invokes etc. 

Hither Sicilian maid 

That on quaint pastoral reed art wont to play 

At close of summer s day. 
To the tir'd shepherd in the twilight glade, 
Thy harp Thalia sound 
In praise of her who in blest arms doth hold 

The Master of thy fold : 
Leave the brisk dance and doff the comic mask, 

And take the higher task 
To make the wild woods, with Pans praise resound 

Hither, Votarist, bring no more 

From Hydaspes, jewell'd shore 

Topaz, ruby and each gem 

That decks the tyrant's diadem. 

To day the heavenly spouse for us 

Doth call his bride from Libanus, 

To receive the cedar crown, 

On the hill of of high renown. 

Virgin daughter of the sea, 

Hear the sinner's prayer to thee; 

The shaggy top of Shenir bold, 

And hoary Hermon's rocky hold, 

The summits of Amana high 

And the craggs that touch the sky, 

The leopards den and lions cave 

For thy head a crown shall weave. 

Virgin then whose eyes have shone 

Bright as the pearls of Heseron, 

Cast those gentle eyes on us, 

And ever be propitious. 



( 61 ) 

The third Sage sings, etc. 

Muse of melancholy, 

Melpomene, whose notes of languid love 
Have power to soften Jove 

In his most angry mood, with accents holy, 

Strike the melodious string 

Of thy soft lute strung with Latona's hair, 
And with soulmelting air, 

By Orpheus taught, dissolve the very skies 
Into sweet extasies, 

Till the charm'd Spheres responsive Paeans sing 
List then, mortals, ope your ears, 
Ye who, in this dell of tears, 
Direful ills have long endur'd, 
Hither hasten to be curd. 
For the day of wrath is past, 
And redemption come at last, 
And all creatures now set free 
From death, shall soon immortal be; 
Man and beast and fish and fowl, 
Each his own eternal soul 
From corruption's jaws shall save 
And rise again from out his grave, 
And cloth'd with immortality 
Shall mount above the starry sky 
And dwell for ever with their lord, 
And skip around his council board, 
And crop fair lawns for ever green, 
Beneath a nightless azure sheen, 
Where the sun's unclouded beams 
Play on the rippling nectar'd streams, 
And in the placid crystal brooks 



( 62 ) 
Eternal Justice fondly looks, 
And joys to see each heavenly grace 
Reflected from the mirrors face. 
There the bee at length reposes 
In the leaves of pinks and roses, 
Or from the lily's fairer lips 
Ethereal honey sweetly sips. 
There doth the faithful dog abide 
For ever by his master's side. 
Sweetest Virgin, then arise 
And wipe the tears from Sorrow's eyes. 
Bid rest to every beast be given 
And peace eternal reign in heaven. 

The fourth wise man sings. 

Sweet flowerkirtled Muse, 

Euterpe, tuning thy enchanting flute, 

To thy sad sister's lute; 
We pray thee now, the higher office choose, 

To sing the praise of Pan; 
To whom a wedded maid hath given birth, 

That he might dwell on Earth, 
Descending from his high ethereal state, 

To be man's mournful mate, 
And teach the way Heaven's arduous walls to scan. 

O then Virgin full of grace, 

Pray that we may have a place, 

High above the starry road, 

In Astraea's blest abode, 

Where the pilgrim tir'd shall close 

His life of toil, in safe repose, 

And angel choirs ever sing, 

To high Heaven's eternal King, 



( 65 ) 

Such melodious notes of love 
As stern Pluto's heart would move, 
And make Proserpina set free 
Such souls as might detained be. 
And if sweet music's magic power 
Can still assist us in that hour, 
Grant us the heavenly choir to join, 
And mingle with the Muses nine 
Our weaker strains, and help to raise 
The swell of concord in thy praise, 
Then let the rosy Cherubim 
And goldenwinged Seraphin 
In one eternal chorus try 
To bind the chords of Harmony; 
While angels and archangels sound 
Loud trumpet that make earth resound 
And send back to the vaulted sky 
The echoes of their minstrelsy. 

The fifth sage sing's, elc. 

fair Calliope 

Of Jove and of unfading Memory born, 

Flourish thy golden horn, 
And from the watchtower of fix'd Helice, 

Tell the revolving spheres 
That He, who doth upon the whirlwind ride, 

Hath chosen, for his bride, 
Of David's line an humble Hebrew maid, 

Who in yon green crib laid, 
Nurses the parent of eternal years 

Then Virgin chaste and fair, 

Pure as light, and free as air, 

From the stain of deadly sin, 



( 64 ) 

Hasten and thy task begin, 

To bring up the infant Pan, 

Untill the vigorous growth of man 

Shall enable him to hold 

His sceptre, and direct the fold : 

So soon as He his reign begin 

Virtue shall contend wtlh Sin; 

But many an age shall pass away 

And many heros turn to clay 

And many martyrs death shall meet 

Befort her conquest be complete. 

He that spreads our Shepherd's name, 

Shall gain aloft the meed of fame; 

But in this lower world beneath, 

He sows, like Cadmus, dragons' teeth, 

From which an army will arise 

Intent to rend the very skies 

And bring such war as ever taints 

Jove's banner with the blood of saints. 

Therefore, Virgin, we implore 

Thy succour in that fearful hour. 

The sitth Sage sings, etc. 

Enchanting rural Muse 

Bearing the mellow lute and sprightly lyre, 

So full of soft desire, 
On either arm, with bracelets of musk rose, 
Shake off thy myrtil crown, 
And play no more to Attic girls and boys, 

But banish amorous joys, 
Chaste Erato, and loudly strike the chord, 

In honour of thy Lord, 
And spread abroad our Pastor's high renown 



( 65 ) 

Along Eurota's flowery banks 

Cease to frisk in giddy ranks; 

Seek no more the shady groves 

Of Ida, with your wanton loves; 

Leave Ops and her pinemantled tower, 

And hasten to this sacred bower : 

Every shepherd, every maid, 

Quits at length the rural glade, 

That each may liberal homage pay 

To the Young King who reigns to day. 

Ye who have heard the magic flute 

Of Hermes, or Apollo's lute; 

Ye who have seen the sparks of fire 

Fly from the nerves of Jubal's lyre, 

Or wandering by Alphseus' flood, 

By moonlight in a pensive mood, 

Have heard sweet Syrinx, from the meads, 

Inflate, for Pan, her choral reeds, 

Ye who have caught the notes afar 

Of Cylheraea's bright guitar, 

Or felt the cymbal's clashing sound, 

When drum and trumpets shake the ground , 

Or ken the noise of timbrel sharp, 

Or love the soft iEolian harp ; 

Ye shall shortly music hear 

Fitter for an angel's ear, 

When, to the vocal choir below, 

The pealing organ pipes shall blow ; 

While tones still deeper fill the gales, 

As merry bells, through flowery dales, 

From lofty steeples, spread the sound 

Of their sweet octave ringing round ; 

And the huge bell, that bears the name 

Of Mary shall henceforth proclaim, 



( 66 ) 

By his one deep unrivall'd tone 
Heard from the temple's tower alone, 
That our great Shepherd soon shall hold 
His flocks in one eternal fold, 
Wherein we fein would gain a place, 
Therefore Virgin full of grace, 
We beseech thee for us pray 
And accept our yows today. 

The sevenlth Sage sings, etc. 

Muse of many songs 

Bring hither, Polyhymnia, all thy lays, 

And tune them to her praise, 
Whose Virgin strength hath cancell'd Eva's wrongs, 
Bid now the Spheres above 
Change their quaint chiming for such melody 

As suits our symphony 
Who here below new joyous carols sing, 

To the young Shepherd King ; 
And change your glees profane for strains of love. 
Phrygian shepherds no more sing 
About the goat that nurs'd your king 
Nor of the bitter almond tree 
Of Atys lov'd by Cybele, 
She, who hath crush'd the poison'd fruit, 
Hath sweeten'd it, and chang'd the root 
To a new graft, to whom 'tis given 
To trail its branches up to Heaven. 
Weep not men of Babylon, 
Nor again descant upon 
The perils that were brought on us 
By Thisbe and fond Pyramus. 
She, who upon the serpent stood 



( 67 ) 
And shed beneath the tree his blood, 
Hath turn'd that tainted berry white 
And made it pure as noonday light, 
And, wiping out all purple dye, 
Hath train'd its branches o'er the sky : 
Let all Arcadia then rejoice 
And old Lyca3us greet the voice 
Which Echo from the sounding plain 
Proclaims to come from Pan again. 
Cease Egyptians to bewail 
Isis; she has doft her veil, 
And in naked beauty stands 
Weeping o'er Nile's fertile sands ; 
Cease Osiris to lament, 
And fell Typhon's dire intent; 
Apis, who receiv'd his soul, 
Hastens to a happier goal. 
Cyprian damsels boast no more 
That Venus loves your myrtil'd shore ; 
Nor let the Athenian coast 
Of its blue eyed Pallas boast ; 
Bid Eleusis cease to whine 
About the rape of Proserpine; 
Ceres soon shall blow her horn 
In nobler feasts, and stack her corn 
For commerce of more high renown 
Than rich Piraeus yet hath known. 
Druid priests now cease to moan 
Your dirges round Trethevy stone ; 
Sit no more on Loggan rocks 
And preach to superstitious flocks: 
Saxons, shut the temple door 
Of Tuesco, Woden and of Thor, 
Frea must consent to yield 



( 68 ) 
Her laurels, on the battle field, 
To Her, who made Desire fly, 
From the reproof of Chastity. 
Persians who adore the Sun, 
Mithra's course is fairly run, 
Your allegiance own, to night, 
To the living God of Light. 
Brahma and the Indian Fo, 
Sieva and Vishnu, get below, 
Now your reign is pass'd away, 
And Pan the sceptre holds to day. 
Soon every minstrel shall be seen 
Circling round Heaven's beauteous Queen, 
And pouring forth such notes of love, 
As angels echo from above, 
Till in one strain of extasy 
They bear Her to the lofty sky. 
So now, chaste Virgin, pray that we 
In this high chorus joined be. 

The eighth sage sing's, etc, 

Inventress of the dance, 

Terpsichore who first young damsels taught, 

With vain ambition fraught, 
Midst drunken satyrs and rude hinds to prance ; 
A steadier course pursue, 
And bid thy votaries now seek for fame, 

Where burns the Vestal flame, 
And, free from all the dangers of the world, 

Heavens ensigns are unfurl'd 
And God on Earth his reign begins a new. 

Shepherd and fair shepherdess 

Waste not now the fond caress 



( 69 ) 
On each others fading charms ; 
Seek no more, of mortal arms, 
To obtain the warm embrace; 
But hasten to that holy place 
Where, seated in the mossy cell, 
Meditation loves to dwell, 
And the pilgrim tir'd of strife 
Seeks a safe sequester'd life : 
There those celestial Graces three, 
Faith, Hope and heavenborn Charity, 
With three sister Virtues more, 
From the angelic council store, 
Have sworn for ever to reside, 
And gather, round the heavenly bride, 
A crown of virgins, whose pure eyes 
Are fit to greet her, in the skies, 
And chaunt the praise of Pan alone 
In halelujahs round her throne. 
Therefore strew the ground for her 
With cypress and the bleeding Myrrh, 
Or the branches of the palm, 
And the sweet woundhealing balm, 
And the radiant marigold, 
And the snowdrop white, and cold, 
And every bloom of Flora's train 
That sheds its petals on the plain ; 
Make a carpet for her feet 
Of cowslips and of violet sweet, 
With jasmin, rose and daffodil, 
And hyacinth, and fresh jonquil 
And lychnis from the greenwood alley, 
Or the lily of the valley, 
But most that lily tall and fair, 
That scents the summer's evening air, 



( 70 ) 
Wherewith Leucothoe did braid 
The locks of Juda's chosen maid, 
When she was first declared to be 
The loadstar of life's troubled sea. 
Thus, O Virgin, hear our prayer 
And our meed aloft prepare : 
And if, as elder sages say, 
Pain and penance be the way 
To repair our parent's loss, 
Help us now to bear the cross : 
He who, fortified by prayer, 
Willingly the cross doth bear, 
Will find, when dight in palmers trim, 
That the cross will carry him. 
Few and number'd are the years, 
Of man, in this sad vale of tears, 
Faith and Charity alone 
Sustain us, but when these are flown 
And Hope's fair promises forgot, 
Life is then a wretched lot ! 
And all the purpling honied flowers, 
Gather'd from young Maia's bowers, 
Seem but a funereal wreath, 
Braided round the bones of Death ; 
Such as pensive vestals doom 
To fade upon a sisters tomb, 
Or votive mourners hang upon 
The urn, when their last hopes are gone ! 
Therefore, shepherdess, repair 
To the cloister pale, and there 
The charter keep of chastity, 
And on this heavenly tenure try, 
With due subjection of thy will, 
To avert the sense of ill 



( 71 ) 
That on the sinner's back is thrown, 
Who ventures in the world alone : 
Go, renounce its fickle pleasures, 
And lay up more solid treasures, 
Where moth and rust corrupt no more 
Nor thieves can steal your gather'd store. 
And pray to Her who shines today 
A Virgin Star of purest ray 
To light you up the arduous road 
That leads to Her own blest abode. 

The ninth and last Sage sings, etc. 

Urania bright and fair 

Under Heaven's dewy vault thy vespers singing 

And with moist fingers wringing 
The wet locks of thy nectardripping hair 

From Hebe's chalice'd hands 
Scatter ambrosia on Earths mortal bed, 

Then stoop thy stargirt head, 
To greet the newborn Pan his flocks among, 

And with some sacred song 
Bring down immortal blessings on these lands, 

Ceres, give us now the bread 

Fit to be ambrosial made, 

And Pomona nurse the vine, 

That it bear the purest wine 

Fit to Nectar to be changed; 

For when this shall be arranged, 

And man shall eat and drink thereof, 

He shall his mortal doom throw off, 

And, gaining immortality, 

Shall dwell with all the Gods on high, 

Where each created thing shall be 



( 72 ) 
From every future peril free, 
And we shall see, as we are seen, 
Not as now on earth, I ween, 
Where every vision seems to pass 
Like shadows o'er a darkened glass, 
Or clouds that fly before the wind 
And scarcely leave a reek behind. 
And, Urania, if thy store 
Of shining worlds and millions more 
Whose light hath never reach'd our globe, 
Nor deck'd as yet thy azure robe, 
As spangles in the ethereal blue, 
Shall then be open'd to our view; 
Grant me their various laws to know, 
And why Jove hath ordain'd them so ? 
From star to star then let me fly, 
And learn the secrets of the sky; 
Why clustering Pleiads set our sails ? 
Why comets shake their firey tails ? 
Why Jupiter by belts is bound, 
Or Saturn compass'd all around 
With a double ring of light? 
Why each revolving satellite 
In brightness differs from his brother, 
And why no star is like another? 
Then let me take a wider span, 
And heaven's still higher regions scan, 
The bright galaxy far above, 
Where stars in stranger orbits move, 
And trace Creation s power divine, 
From nebula? that hardly shine, 
Through all the graduated troops 
Of clusters, clustering stars and groups, 
Till all their mechanism I learn, 



( 73 ) 
And why they shine and how they turn; 
And all their planets motions solve, — 
Why some round solid suns revolve, 
While other spheres, in endless space, 
Round empty centres whirl apace? 
Why Stella Mira comes and goes, 
While bright Capella always glows ? 
Then in the lapse of endless years, 
Let me bring up the long arrears 
Of closer science, and descry 
Each world's own natural history : 
And see what men or spirits hold, 
In burning suns, or planets cold, 
Their destin'd posts, by God assign'd, 
According to their grade of mind : 
And when I've rang'd the lofty skies 
With the brisk handmaid Enterprize, 
Then let me seek some bower fit 
For Contemplation, there to sit, 
And metaphysic questions try, 
If such a task be not too high, 
And ask if comets can, above, 
In parabolic orbits move? 
Or whether, by some foi;ce disturb'd, 
Such blazing stars can run uncurb'd 
Through endless space, and by a swerve 
Can make the hyperbolic curve? 
Nor would I deem it then amiss , 
Boldly to question Lachesis, 
Why evil hath so long delay'd 
The paradise that Jove hath made 
And promis'd to the wise and good, 
Who the great tempter have withstood ? 
These joys, sweet Muse, if thou canst give 



( ™) 

Then may I ever with thee live, 

And trace, in each phenomenon, 

The cause that it depends upon ; 

Exploring all the truths that lie 

Within the range of Entity. 
Me. Methinks, Damcetas, that these wise men's odes 
Must more import than their mere words express, 
They seem to old traditions to relate 
Which, early spread abroad in different climes, 
Though varied, are in purpose yet the same, 
Bearing allusion to the golden age 
And its long promised return, on earth. 
But hark, the Mother, nursing in her arms 
The Infant Pan, sings now her lullaby; 
List, shepherds, list ; for not so sweet a voice 
Was ever heard in country hall, or bower, 
From Syren's lips, or tongue of dying swan. 
It seems that she hath borrow'd of each Muse 
The choisest tones ; while by each Grace adorn'd, 
With all that lovely is of woman's form, 
She sits here like a fair celestial queen 
Whom chance had thrown among these rustic hinds ! 
Lulling with artless notes her child to sleep ; 
Just as, from cage escap'd, some beauteous bird 
In a wild hedgerow makes its wonted nest, 
And with new music charms th'astonish'd grove. 
So soon as she her ditty shall have done, 
I will approach and greet her with a song, 
Such as befits her saintly majesty : 
For, barring her sweet harmony, Damcetas, 
Her port divine and modest attitude 
And her soft eyes, that seemingly regard, 
With maiden coyness yet with mother's care, 
The Infant who, upon her bosom laid, 



( 75 ) 
Plays with the tangles of her drooping hair, 
Do move me much to give her serenade 
And keep the first wake at her rural shrine. 

The Virgin sings as She rocks the Child on her Knees. 

As my God shall I adore thee 

Now to poverty exil'd, 
Shall I humbly kneel before thee, 

Or embrace thee as my child? 
Shall I fragrant incense proffer, 

Prostrate here in fervent prayer, 
Or my milk enraptured offer, 

With the fondest mother's care ? 
Thou, whose name, so sweet and holy, 

Fills with joy the angel trai n, 
Now art lying meek and lowly, 

Doom'd to indigence and pain ! 
Poverty and want surround thee, 

Thou the son of the Most High, 
Horned oxen feed around thee, 

And beside thy pillow lie ! 
Little Infant, frail and tender, 

Yet the King of Kings art thou , 
And before thy throne of splendour 

Countless trembling spirits bow ! 
Th' Heavens are with thee — yet, oh wonder 

On my knees I rock thee now, 
Watching o'er thy peaceful slumber, 

As around the cold winds blow! 
Hush ! my love ; for here no danger 

Can disturb thy tranquil sleep, 
O'er this rude and wretched manger 

Holy angels vigil keep ! 



( 76 ) 
Fearest thou those sounds that sweetly 

Fill with harmony the skies? 
Tis their joyous hymns that greet thee 

King, though in thy mortal guise. 
Thus to them on high 'tis given 

To proclaim thy midnight birth, 
" Glory be to God in Heaven 

u And to good men peace on earth. " 
Fearest thou the arms that press thee ? 

They are but thy mothers, dear, 
'Tis her lips that now caress thee 

And her voice that thou dost hear. 
Art thou cold ? Ah yes a stable 

Is alas thy only bed, 
And my arms the softest cradle, 

Where to lay thy sacred head ! 
Eva's fallen sons impel thee 

To accept this lot forlorn, 
And thy tears now sadly tell me, 

That to suffer thou art born ! 
Heavenly Babe, shall I adore thee, 

Now to poverty exiled, 
Shall I humbly kneel before thee, 

Or embrace thee as my child? 

Menalcas, approaching, serenades the Virgin. 

Sweet sphereborn daughter of the heavenly chime 

Say now, why wilt thou dwell 
In grassy bower, and pass thy time 
Companion to the lily of the dale, 

Thou rival of the nightingale, 
Who in Jove's Orchestra thy tale shouldst tell ? 
Leave this lone grot and shepherds bide among 

And bless us with thy charming song ! 



( 77 ) 

The Holy Virgin replies. 

Shepherd, thou has ill bestow'd on me 
That praise which doth to God alone belong ; 
For as the Moon her fainter light reflects 
Only when she her face to Phcebus turns; 

So I, when humbly for Pan s flock, I pray, 

Can only give the borrowed grace of Heaven. 

He who is come to day to dwell with us 

And be the Master Shepherd of your folds 

Will all things give for faithful pastors meet, 

And present be, until the end of time, 

E'en when his visible form aloft be rais'd 

Transfigur'd to his own celestial shape. 

But like Him ye must bear your cross on earth, 

Leading a hard and perilous pilgrims life, 

And quit vain Pleasure's soft voluptuous bowers : 

Then, should your frail hearts want the aid of prayers, 

1 shall be ready succour to afford 

And plead meek Virtue's cause in Heaven's high Court., 
Men. Hail therefore, Gracious Mother of our Lord : 
Each herdsman of the undivided fold 
Shall on his crook thy graven image bear, 
As a memento of our need of thee. 
And, from henceforth, no temple, fane, or tower 
No turret high, nor lowly vestal's cell 
No chimney nook, nor humble shepherd's cot, 
Nor fountain, stream nor sacred oratory 
Where Faith doth keep her wake, or where fond Hope , 
With Charity, uplifts her eyes to Heaven, 
Shall be without thy sacred effigy! 
May then Jove be propitious, and thy Son 
The universal Pan his mercy show; 
And that most Holy Spirit from above 



( 78 ) 
Who reigns in Trinal Unity with both 
Shed on his flock th' illuminating ray. 
But thou sweet Queen of Heaven, pray for us ; 
Mother of God and of all Grace Divine, 
Mother most pure, most chaste, most undefiTd, 
Mother unblemish'd, lovely, admirable, 
Virgin most prudent and most venerable ! 
Virgin most clement, faithful, powerful ! 
Mirror of Justice, Wisdom's sainted Seat ! 
Cause of our joy who at thy shrine do bend ! 
Spiritual Vessel of devotion full 
Mystical Rose gather d from Sharon's bower, 
Fortress of David, Tower of Ivory ! 
Ark of the Covenant, and House of Gold ! 
Blest Gate of Heaven, and brightest Morning Star, 
The sick man's Health , the sinner's Refuge sure, 
The pilgrims Aid, the wounded sinner's Balm ! 
Queen of Angels, and the Patriarchs ! 
Queen of Apostles, and of Prophets old, 
Queen of all martyrs who their blood do shed. 
And Queen of Virgins and all hallowed Saints, 
Who like the rays of light around thy head, 
Weave for thy majesty a diamond crown, — 
Pray for us now, that we may duly learn 
To trace our Master's track and lead our flocks 
To pastures pure where holy waters flow. 

Pyrrho interrupts the pious Shepherd and proposed to return. 

Pyrr/io. Philostratus, I move that we return 
To our own homes, for these mysterious songs 
And tongues prophetic baffle human sense, 
And, like a beckoning ghost, excite strange thoughts, 
But leave familiar doubts still unresolv'd, 
Let us go home to our own Household Gods 



( 79 ) 
No longer now bleak Winter s icy brow 
Frowns o'er the plain 5 the roads are passable 
And every wild wood, and each flowery brae, 
Where we are wont to rove, now breathes the spring, 
Beset with daisies and sweet violets 
And every bloom that glads the students eyes 
Who from his task sweet recreation seeks. 
Fain would I now be sitting by the side 
Of the clear fountain circled by gay flowers 
That holds the centre of my garden fair, 
Bright Phoebus now his earlier axle guides 
In the ethereal blue, with Maia's train ; 
From every blosom'd bush the cuckoo sings 
And the rathe skylark chaunts his matin hymn. 
Now every tree, clad in the liveliest green, 
Its various buds and blosoms doth display. 
There, when tir'd Leisure from his morning walk 
Beside the blooming hedge, through alleys green 
With hawthorn and the wild rose gaily dress'd, 
Or o'er the downs, through the sheeps winding train, 
Homeward returns, the deep and darkening grove 
Affords him pleasant shade ; there seated he 
On the rude bench, now listens to the thrush, 
Or blackbird whistling from the laurel hedge 
Or twittering martlet, or loud squeaking swift, 
That round the towers of his old mansion fly 
In endless circles, while the humming bees, 
In the trim flowery garden, work all day, 
And mix their murmurs with the babling brook. 
Then comes the rural savory dinner, set 
On a neat beechen table, in maple dish, 
Which Thestylis with her clean hands prepares, 
And Hunger, best of cooks', knows how to season ; 
And then at eve, the upland lawns invite 



( 80 ) 
The swain to play upon his rustic pipe , 
To village maidens knit in circling dance. 
It may be well to cant theology, 
When hoary winter shuts us up in snows, 
But when first Nature wantons with the Sun 
And every wild bird pipes his note of love 
'Twere churlish to remain a student tir'd 
Of questions too abstruse for human ken. 

Phil. Pyrrho, the satisfaction thou hast sought 
To thy hard questions, is attainable 
To him alone who puts his reason down 
And, with pure Faith beside him, lends his ears 
To sage Tradition's voice : he then receives 
From genuine sources all important truths; 
But barring this, no other mode I know 
Whereby to satisfy the curious mind. 
Were then a miracle expressly wrought 
To prove the truth of things to reason strange, 
You scarcely would believe it, without proof 
From logic, but would straitway set it down 
For some delusion of fallacious sense. 
As for returning to your rural bowers, 
I feel no consolation in this thought : 
What are the young leaves and the budding blooms, 
But ensigns of decay, heralds of death? 
Trees that in Spring so bright and green appear 
Fanning their leaves to the light Zephyr's breath 
E'er yellow Autumn hath bound up the sheaves 
Will wear their russet warbrobe, and decay. 
I seek not vanity, and hold that truth 
Lies not upon the surface of the earth 
But deeper hides in some profound recess 
Of th' inward man! But hark what sound is that 
Which strikes my ear, louder than cymbals clang 






( 81 ) 

And sweeter far, though deeper than the ring 
Which hollow vessels made of metal make. 
Pyrrho. I know not less it be distant ting 
Of some large wethers bell, — hark 'tis too loud, 
Some new invention sure, to which the sage 
Alluded in his strange song to his Muse. 

The sound of a large Church Bell is heard at a distance \ 

Pyrrho. My questions have, as yet, no answer found 
Why Jove, who is Allwise and Powerful 
Doth not at one fell swoop, slay Lucifer 
And all his host, and put an end 
To all the ills that compass us around? 
Why threaten punishment, freewill denied ? 
For were I free to choose, my will were baulk'd 
That man proposes, Avhile some unseen power 
Disposes of his fruitless purposes, 
And frustrates mortals in their high laid schemes, 
Each day's experience doth testify ; 
And till I can these perplexed doubts resolve 
I think it best to quit philosophy, 
And make the most of life's uncertain day. 

Phil. O that kind Heaven would clear itself of clouds 
And deign t'instruct us in these mysteries ! 
Come sage Damcetas, join us in this quest, 
And let us, with one voice, invoke the skies 
To send down some angelic oracle , 
To be our guide o'er time's unfathomed sea. 
He who could speech confer on Balaam's ass, 
And tie the clamorous tongues of Cerberus, 
Or on the wall prophetic warnings trace, 
Will surely listen to our threefold prayer, 

" The Slory of the Bell was intended to follow ths poems: but afterwards neglected. 

If 



( 82 ) 
And send a guardian angel to our aid ; 
And we will be all eyes, all ears, all touch, 
All sense subdued, till Jove his will reveal. 

The SJiepherd and two Philosophers sing 

Blest spirit who, aloft unseen, 

The living world dost move, 
And far above the spangled sheen, 
Where nought of Earth's sinblemish'd mould hath 
Dwellest with Jove ! [been, 

List now, and mortals save 
From doubt and from the grave. 

From thy bright Empyreal State 

Descend in mortal weed, 
And teach us how to estimate 
The keys that open Heaven or Hell's hard gate ; 
For we have need 
That thou should'st show a sign, 
Of God's just law divine. 

Astrea descends in the visible form of Retributive Justice, habited 
as a female with wings, a scourge and golden balance ; and 
speaks, as follows, the 

EPILOGUE. 

From realms above the starry sky 
Where Jove erects his Council Seat on high, 
Beyond the ethereal blue, 
In this my visible form of Justice dress'd, 
Shepherds now, at your request, 

I come to answer you, 
At Heaven's command, and be the guide, 
Of reason through life's desert wide ! 

If ye would immortal be, 
Mark my laws and follow me. 






( 83 ) 
And first of all ye must discard 
Every doubt, and question hard, 
That human knowledge closer brings 
To the first origin of things, 
Than is allow'd by sovereign Jove, 
Who reigns all mortal sense above. 
This was the pristine sin of man, 
When first the living world began ; 
Who with such questions fain would grapple 
And gather'd the forbidden apple ; 
But I the fault did quick resent, 
And sent him death for punishment : 
Therefore, no more your reason strain, 
To ken the origin of pain, 
Much less the hard knot to untie, 
Of freewill and necessity. 
Your Master Shepherd now is come, 
To give His wandering flocks a home ; 
And if you doubt His Word Divine, 
And fear his yoke, then put on mine, 
When suffer'd retribution 
Will make you sore repent anon. 
For in my obvious course doth lie 
The proof of His Ubiquity, 
And, in these golden scales, the measure, 
Both of the pain and of the pleasure, 
Which I according to due merit, 
Deal out to each deserving spirit ; 
Then watch my course and follow me, 
And you such proofs of God shall see, 
As never were in legend told, 
Nor ever prophet did unfold, 
Nor e'er tradition handed down 
To councils of the most renown. 



( 84 ) 
When the oppressor rich in crime, 
Seems to flourish for a time ; 
Mark the nature of the stroke, 
Which from Erynnis I invoke, 
And see it fall, or soon, or late, 
Just to each sin commensurate, 
Upon the guilty culprit's head ; 
Or, if you choose to take instead, 
Example from the good and wise, 
Behold the joy that fills their eyes, 
E'en when their martyr'd limbs are burn'd, 
Or round the torturing wheel are turn'd. 
No miser hath my law withstood ; 
Illgotten wealth bodes no man good ; 
And scourging Justice always meets, 
Sooner or later, him who cheats. 
He who maltreats an animal 
Even in this world shortly shall, 
By some other beast be slain, 
Or made to suffer cruel pain. 
Thus the sportsman bursts his gun, 
The driver oft is overrun, 
The reckless huntsman breaks his neck, 
The fisher's lost in watery creek : 
And you will find that those endure, 
Pains, if less obvious, not less sure, 
Who any creatures do oppress, 
Or e'en repulse their fond caress. 
He, who is false, is not believ'd, 
And the deceiver is deceiv'd ; 
But note how Heaven doth encrust, 
With coat of mail, the good and just, 
He who respects his parent's ways, 
On earth doth lengthen out his days ; 



( 85 ) 

And those are fortunate alone, 

Who, all their lives, have mercy shown* 

But Jove his justice oft delays, 

And his dire retribution stays, 

To give the sinner time to turn 

To Virtue's path, and error spurn ; 

But should he obdurate appear, 

Unwarn'd by Purgatory here, 

In t'other world he's sure to find, 

Pain suited to his state of mind, 

E'en here no crimes unpunish'd go ; 

He must receive who deals the blow ; 

And he that meditates mischance, 

To his own neighbour, falls askance, 

And, when he hath contrived his snare, 

Shall oft be found entangled there ! 

There is a rule above that law, 

From which the visible world doth draw 

Its nature ; and this rule is sure, 

Through endless ages, to endure— 

This is my charge, by Jove assign'd, 

I am His moral law of mind : 

In my just dealings, then, descry, 

Heaven's own eternal harmony : 

And if from woe you would be free, 

Mortals, you must follow me ! 

Follow ; — but with patience due, — 

And I will teach ye to renew 

The lease of life, on tenure sure, 

That shall for evermore endure, 

In those exalted regions, where 

The blest inhale Empyrean air, 

Pure as the first creative breath, 

That exemption gives from death. 



( 86 ) 

There Psyche, new in peerless grace, 

Wrap'd in th' eternal fond embrace 

Of her dear Cupid, now reposes 

In bowers of jessamine and roses. 

There on beds of violet sweet, 

Fair Venus doth Adonis meet ; 

There, shaded by Hesperian boughs, 

Adam and Eve renew their vows 

To God, and bind each rebel sense 

In bonds of first obedience, 

Right grateful that, their penance o'er, 

Their sons shall sin and die no more. 

There Hector is rejoic'd to see, 

Once more his sweet Andromache, 

Nor is Hermione the less 

Gladden'd Orestes to caress. 

There the wanderer Ulysses 

Bathes Penelope in kisses, 

While by them honest Argus stands, 

Licking his long loved master's hands ; 

And the great Alexander thus, 

Greets his farfam'd Bucephalus. 

Each parent dear from earth remov'd, 

The faithful dog, the wife belov'd, 

Each brother, sister, and the train 

Of cherish'd friends, there, meet again, 

With God for ever to abide, 

Cloath'd in a body glorified ! 

There the sweet Celestial Queen, 

Circled round about, is seen, 

By her chosen Virgin Choir, 

Each in gradation mounting higher, 

In due proportion, just as she 

Hath prov'd her strength of chastity ; 



( 87 ) 

To these She gives her purest kiss, 

And drenches in celestial bliss — 

Such maids as wear the triple crown, 

And tread the threetongued adder down ! 

Therefore the heavenly succour seek, 

Of that sincovering Virtue meek, 

Blest Charity, that long survives 

Her sisters, and for ever lives. 

But see now Titan's parting light, 

Glows on Judaea's balmy night, 

As now he shoots his upward beams, 

Aslant in golden radient streams, 

Through clouds in colours richly dress d, 

Such as I whylome gladly press'd, 

When cushion'd on their purple bed, 

To my ethereal throne I fled. 

Hark, from the sable Eastern pole, 

What measur'd peals of thunder roll, 

Proclaiming that to me is given, 

Jove's summons to return to Heaven, 

And quit the brood of Earth that must, 

Quickly turn again to dust ; 

But anon before I fly, 

To my seat above the sky, 

My office is, to ratify 

The Charter of Eternity, 

And from the partycoloured bow 

Of Iris, I, to all below, 

Proclaim the penitent's release, 

And pledge afford of endless peace : 

So now I quickly bid adieu, 

To this nether world and you, 

And if you will immortal be, 

Mortals, you must follow me. 

END OF THE PASTORAL. 



( 88 ) 

IMPROMPU, while Ascending in a Baloon, April 30, 1851. 

Adieu, queer tiny speck of earth, adieu ! 

Aloft I fly to seek a worthier lot, 
Midst countless suns, and comets not a few, 

And seem, dim planet, to regret thee not ! 
Thou, whose rough surface is encas'd in mist 

Hiding each vice and woe to mortals given, 
If thou wert blotted out , wouldst scarce be miss'd, 

Among the million brighter stars of Heaven. 
Yet as I view rich Flora's gaudy train 

Of newly budding leaves and blossoms sweet, 
I almost long to be aground again, 

To spread the carpet for young Maia's feet ; 
And to invite her to some shady bower, 

Lattic'd with amorous woodbine and muskrose, 
While the gay woodlark cheer'd each passing hour, 

To court her favours in secure repose. 
1 seem enshrin'd on high in ruby clouds 

That draw their goldenfringed curtains round, 
Above the noise and stir of mortal crowds, 

Like grovelling insects, crawling on the ground. 

what a panoramic scene around, 

Of chequer'd fields, green woods and silvery brooks, 
And such a stillness that the smallest sound 

Makes Silence startle as she downward looks. 
Let Phaeton Apollo's chariot guide, 

Scan the Empyrean and fire the Sky ; 

1 under Night's dark cowl my head must hide, 

Or fall, like Icarus who soar'd too high : 
So, Dcedalus, inspher'd in silken sack, 

Swell not thy crest too big with new renown, 
But warn'd by Helle who broke Phryxus' back, 

Curb thy bold flight and timely bring me down, 
With wife and child and dog and friends to sup, 

Pieturn'd about as wise as I went up. 



POEM AT A. LATIN A. 



SOMMUM PHILOSOPHICUM. 



Ve 



esper erat, curras jatndudum Phoebus in undis 

Merserat , et liquido fonte lavabat cquos. 
Hesperios Zephyrus leviter dum ventilat ignes , 

Cinnamei apportat floris aroma mihi. 
Populeam referens lassatum corpus in umbram , 

Muscoso apposui membra levand* toro. 
Dum fidus juxta, ut semper, canis ipse jacebat; 

Stabat et ante oculos ardua Roma meos. 
Non equidem tenuis ceciderunt flamina venti ? 

At levis arboreis murmurat aura comis. 
Moestaque in sylvis avis anxia voce querelas 

Edidit, insolitos dat Philomela sonos. 
Lumine phosphorico volitabat musca per herbas : 

Sepibus insonuit rauca cicada suis. 
Garrula nigranti stridebat in ilice cornix, 

Et strix vicino culmine fusca canit. 
Omnia nempe malum mihi prsedixisse videntur, 

Attamen in tenero gramine somnus adest. 
Sed vix alta quies sopitos occupat artus, 

Quum terrent animum somnia vana meum. 
Credo me aetheraes rapide volitare per auras ? 

Visere et in gemino sidera fix a polo. 
Atque cometarum ignotos transcurrere cursus, 
Nee fugit ex oculis quisque planeta meis. 
Prima mihi arridens radiis Venus alma refulsit 

Pallidaque eximia Luna colenda face. 
Stat rutilas agitans Mars clarior ipse sagittas, 

12 



( 90 ) 

Orbita Saturni lucida visa fuit. 
Lactea aperta via est , levibus dum provehor alis 

Atriaque altisoni cogor adire Jovis. 
Stellatum interea mirabar in ordine coelum, 

Dum chorus astrorum sphaericus inde sonaf. 
PleVadas illic et segni plaustra Bootae , 

Atque videre Hyadas, Aldebaranque licet. 
Virgineis merito pedibus calcatus Orion 

Occidua coeli parte videndus erat. 
Splendet et Oleniae signum pluviale Capellae 

Sideraque ingenio non numeranda meo. 
Mens mi hi coelorum quaerebal territa fines , 

Sedfugiunt oculoslimina lata meos. 
Et quanto immensum sum currere in aethera visus , 

Longius heu tanto Terminus ipse fugit. 
Namque meum in spatium sine fine volatile corpus 

Volvitur et nullo limite provehitur. 
Ultima flamma fuit nusquam , nee cernitur astrum 

Quo non ullerius lucidus orbis erat. 
Sidera multimodis fundentia mille colores 

Significant varii numina magna Dei. 
Haud aliter stupui , cum tot miranda videbam , 

Quam qui vix rupto carcere liber eat. 
Aut modo quam turtur qui latos missus in hortos 

Nescit inexpertos quo bene ferre pedes. 
Sed cum nulla fugam cohibent retinacula nostram, 

Ad Superos fundit, qui fugit ipse , preces. 
Di maris et coeli pater o celeberrime Divum, 

Jam precor inyitum siste parumper iter! 
Pone moram saltern , si non mihi vertere gressus 

Et liceat vetitos amplius ire Lares. 
Tandem optata tamen requies respexit euntem ; 

Corripuit cursus obvia Musa meos. 
Et me subridens Polyhymnia sistere jussit, 

Atque haec , dum mora sit, versa loquela fuit; — 
Die mihi quas leges, operum quos denique fines 



( 91 ) 

Natura imposuit, conscia causa, sibi? 
Rerum nulla quidem nosco , mihi Musa reponit , 

Limina mortali praetereunda pede : 
Lex, variata in se, variandi immensa potestas 

Mutato restat nomine dicta Deus ; 
Causaque prima latet , sed homo male mente superbus 

Ascripsit fictonumina falsa Jovi. 
Hinc Styga cum tenebris Orcoque habitantia nigro 

Spectra , per augurium gens malesuada pavet. 
Religionis opus si fabula tanta fuisset , 

Multum amor et dubius fecerit inde timor. 
Quod rota Fortunae venienti tempore verset 

Nescimus penitus, quaerere nee liceat. 
Quod semel Hora suo fugiens devexerit axe 

Jupiter imperio non revocare potest. 
Illaesa prodire volens Natura catena 

Temporis in rapidas ilque reditque vices. 
Spiritus omnipotens alit omnia sparsa per altum 

Corpora , et aeterno foedere cuncta tenet. 
Hinc cum nulla suam conservant corpora formam 

Materies restat , dum variat species. 
Ens manet immotumque, nova sub imagine, semper 

Permutat faciem , restituetque vices. 
Perpetuis in se tempus revolubile gyris, 

Jam gaudet Zephyros, jam revocare nivem, 
Sic venit exoriens, sic deficit, inde coactis 

Cornupus in plenum menstrua n Luna redit. 
Nulla salo superant constantia flamina venti : 

Nubibus in celsis nulla perennis aqua. 
Cumque hodie fines undosum transeat aequor , 

Gras levis immunes deserit aura rates. 
Omnes terra etiam semper renovanda figuras 

Vertit, ut in partes quatuor annus eat. 
Hinc Ver floriferum, cum mergit Piscis, et inde 

Aurea Phryxaeae vellera dantur Ovis. 
Taurus et auratis agitat bene cornibus Eurum, 



( 92 ) 

Pleiadum spisso cum chorus igne micat ; 
Et coelo Oebalius gemino stat Castore Pollux, 

Quos dedit ex utero Candida Leda suo. 
Torrid a tunc Aestas, cum sicco Sirius ore 

Latrat, et, heu ! Cancrum fervidus igne coquit. 
Atque, Jubae quondam quem protulit horrida tellus, 

Sanguineis aperit deniibus ora Leo. 
Oceano tu nunc, justissima nympha, relicto, 

Virginis Astraeae Stella perennis ades. 
Libra die noctuque pares cum comparat horas, 

Pendulaque exiguo luminesigna levet; 
Turn venit Autumnus; conlraxit Scorpius artus, 

Atque suo Anlares corde micat rutilus. 
Gentaurusque aridas vento leve mulcet aristas , 

Perdit et illius temporis aura fidem. 
Tunc levis obliquam male versat Aquarius urnam, 

Datque breves iterum proxima Bruma dies. 
Lex aeterna quidem variandi regnat Olympi , 

Quae variis fingit sidera cuncla modis. 
Spiritus aeternus, nihilo licet omnia fecit, 

Ustulat hie mundos, hie facit inde noyos. 
Omnibus atque habitant stellis animalia, dico, 

Et minima immensos astra tenent populos. 
Omnem animam in varias credas migrare figuras , 

Atque nihil, vivum quod fuit ante, mori. 
Haec dixit Musa, et subitomihi pectore somnus 

Evolat, atque ociuV.s Nox micat ante meos. 
Visa tamen somno attonita jam mente revolvans, 

Sic meditor vigilans quae mihi Musa dedit. 
Stulte quid ingenium quaerendo vana fatigas, 

Mundus an immensus, vel tibi nullus adest. 
Jupiter omnipotens num certo limite fixit 

Omnia; seu nullo limine cuncta petent. 
Quomodo discernam quid sit mihi terra , quid umbra P 

Me vivente , manet; me pereunte, perif. 
Deficit exiguis Cybele cum sensibus ipsa, 



( 93 ) 

Dum vivo, vivit;cum cadet ilia, cadam. 
Dura spiro spero, dumque haec mihi vita supersit, 

Credam me Elysium posse subire neraus. 
Sum flos incertos indutus mille colores; 

Haec mihi quae dederas munera terra cape. 
Fractusat aetherium stipes cum sparge t odorein, 

Ad superos fontes hie volet , unde venit. 
Spes equidem magico Pandorae pyxide surgens, 

Si sit amor, misero det mihi sola fidem. 
Sed dubium redit , et dubiis Deus errat in armis, 

Atque nihil certi dat mihi vita fugax. 
Jamque domus mea, jamque omnes valeatis amici , 

Hei , modo quae fuerat, non mihi turba manet. 
Saepe per egregiasin somnis transvehor urbes, 

INec desunt animo fortia castra meo. 
Saepius in somnis imitata est vera voluptas , 

Nam mihi , dum credo , basia vera placent. 
Haec equidem evigilans dico phantasmata noetis, 

Nee credo, ante diem, vera videnda mihi. 
Falsa tamen species vigilandi somnia rumpit, 

Cum manet incertum , mundus an umbra redit ? 
Mutatas iterum scenas licet usque videre ; 

Credo me vigilem, nee fluit alta quies. 
Spectra novas rapide redeunt imitantia formas ; 

Meque iterum somnis evigilasse puto : 
Quum tandem nitor perversa in vincula monstri , 

Dum fngit a membris incubus ipse meis. 
Quomodo certus ero cum somno cuncta recurrunt, 

Num spatium existit sensibus exterius ; 
An malus humanis illudit mentibns error, 

Atque Ens haud ultra , quam rogus , esse potest ? 

Fevrier 1837. 



DEDICATIO LIBELLI. 



Musa, peregrinas quae prompta volare per auras, 

Non mea despicias rura paterna, fave. 
Magna Britannorum tibi quaerere littora fas est ; 

Anglica turn celeri cur re per arva pede. 
Atque ubi venisti quo, multo operata labore, 

Crescit in omniferos Thamesis unda sinus ; 
Expete frondosam , non longo tramite , villain 

Floribus obsessam quos raea terra ferat. 
Hie varias volvens herbas perdoctus amator 

Plantarum species efficit arte novas. 
Dulcis et iste labor ! Sed quantas ruris opaci 

Delicias homini praebet arnica quies! 
O utinam liceat, consumpto tempore nobis 

Exilii, solito membra levare toro; 
Dum vetus ad dextram recubans canis ossa relinquit, 

Et nimis ingratam lambit, ut ante, manum. 
Nee levis est patrios mihi cura revisere fines , 

Quum lassum veteris me Laris urget amor! 
Ver venit egelidum*, tu scis , Parnassia Daphne, 

Explicitos crines pandere, Phoebus adest! 
Pierides, viridi mea cingite lempora myrto, 

Et frontem immodico sparge Falerne mero. 
3Nam rediviva quatit mea pectora laeta Juventas, 

Et furor ingenii me sacer intus agit. 
Veris io rediere vices, dum campus et aer 

Me faciunt patria nolle carere mea. 
Jamdudum solitam vocalis turtur ad ulmum , 

Et redit in larices rauca columba suas. 
Ore malo volitans muscas deprendit hirundo, 

Atque ita viventi pascitur ilia cibo : 
Cumque lacus circum volitat vel florida prata , 

lllius ambages quis numerare velit ? 
Cypselus in vacuo rapidis volat aelhere pennis. 



( 95 ) 

Nee celeres aquilas accipitremve timet. 
Bacche, veni, laus magna tibi tribuetur, et evoe, 

Ebrius in magicum provehar ipse nemus. 
Pactolus nobis flaitet, Fortunaque cornu 

Fundat Amalthaeo somnia , vina , dapes ! 
Adsis, alma Venus, nee , curn sis pulcbra , recuses 

Inter Hamadryadas ducere nuda cboros. 
Ante meos oculos, in somnis, dulcis oberrat, 

Et petit amplexus, ut solet, Emma meos. 
Et , varias agitans musas , gaudere videtur 

Officium fieri tarn leve vocis ope. 
Dum sua muscosa vestigia ponit in herba , 

Et fugiens rumpit somnia grata mibi. 
O quam dulce sonant iterum quae carmina nobis 

Personuit citbara docta puella sua ! 
Quum subit arvorum tbalamique fidelis imago, 

Et species vanae dulcis amicitiae ; 
Gutta per immeritos furtim jam manat ocellos, 

Et tremulo videas corda salire sono. 
Cum fin gam me iterum nigros percurrere lucos , 

Ludere ubi solitus cum puer ipse fui ; 
Dum rediens nota cantabat ab arbore turdus, 

Et vernum in sylvis sparsit amore son urn. 
Quum bortum repeto quo Floram et serta reliqui, 

Quassat ubi tremulas populus alba comas : 
Quum spelunca patris Zepbyris agitata recurrit, 

In lacrymas pietas solvitur ipsa meas. 
Omnis amicus ibi est, venerandaque turba virorum ; 

Me solum a patria terra remota tenet. 
Spes mibi, Pandorae bona nuncia, sola remansit, 

Clausa sed in fundo pyxidis ilia latet. 
At misero vetitos si sors mihi dura Penates, 

Et negat optatum dulce redire La rem, 
Vade liber tamen, atque tibi Neptunus eunti 

Det, precor, haud dubiam per vada caeca viam. 
Hippotades leviter yen to rum flamina verset, 



( 96 ) 

Et plena in patriam lintea ferte ratem. 
Sed mihi Gastalios venit hora reciudere fontes 

Ora Britannorum jam pete, tempus habes. 
Inter amicorum libros, doctoque recessu, 

Invenies tutum, care libelle, locum. 
Et meraor Oceanum vetulae quae minxit in alluni, 

Addas te immense parvula gutta, mari. 

DE PUELLA NOMINE FOOT SALTANTE. 

Qualis, purpureis mille coloribus 

Indutus, vacuo jugere nascitur 

Flos quem nulla manus rustica, nesciens 

Quanti sit pretii, capit : 
Donee quis juvenis doctior advenit, 
Qui tandem lepidis captus odoribus, 
Ne solis nemorum saltibus emicat 

Gaudens accipiet sibi : 
Talis flore rosae Sylvia suavior 
Inter molliculas docta puellulas 
Saltare, at decoris nescia roscidi, 

Pulchro praeniteat choro ! 
Nee frustra, teneris actus ab ignibus, 
Incomptis faciam carmina versibus, 
Sed nymphae placeam quae mihi vulnera 

Salso condiderit pede. 

EIS THE KOPHN. 

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AD SANCTAM VIRGINEM MARIAM 



Oratio, depeste vulgo influenzdjampopulum torquente,feb. 1837, Bruxellis, 

tu divino Virgo laetissima partu, 

Imperium Christi par prope, mater, habes ; 
Estque tuo arbitrio crudelia fata morari, 

Et viva e tumulis spectra ciere suis. 
Pestis acerba venit nullis medicabilis herbis : 

Da, precor, auxilium , casta Maria, tuum. 
Mites flecte oculos, nee te, Dea prompta , pigebit 

Aegrotis medicas apposuisse manus. 
Ecce tuum rapidus populum nunc devorat ignis, 

Deficiunt gentes et sine voce jacent ! 
Corpora nocte cadunt in vico tabida passim, 

Maneque funeribus non caret ulla domus. 
Stat mater lacrymans infantes cum videt, eheu, 

Continuo letho succubuisse suos ! 
Nunc terra, ut quondam, miseris est orba colonis, 

Atque opere in medio rusticus ipse cadit. 
Omnibus, heu, febris pallentes occupat artus, 

Guttaque morbosis labitur ex oculis, 
Aspera lingua tumet, nee vox bene faucibus ipsa 

Exit, at aegroto pectore rauca venit- 
Luctus et ulcus babent faciem miserabilis urbis, 

Non uxor dominum noscit, ut ante, suum. 
Conjugibus miseros mors frigida claudit ocellos, 

Et fata ingeniis vix subeunda parit. 
Nee mirum, horribili metuendus crine cometes 

Splendet ; et aspectu quisque planeta malo. 
Pallida purpureo conjuncta est Cynthia Marti, 

Et Jovis astrorum maxima flamma furit! 
Nunc Stellas labi longosque relinquere tractus 

Vidimus : in limum desiluere faces ; 
Circiter atque polos Aurora errare videtur , 

Dum coeli facies sanguine tin eta manet ! 

13 






( 98 ) 

Nil medici, nil herba valet, nee condita terra 

Munera ; nee cantus jam cecinisse juvat. 
Quid melos et flores, quid carmina raystica prosunt ; 

Quid valet accenso laurus adusta foco ? 
Pacis enim folium Deus ipse ostendit olivae , 

Et signa in pictis nubibus Iris habet. 
Nos non augurium et magicas tentavimus artes, 

Nee bibit e vetitis fontibus aegra sitis. 
Templa petamus ubi nobis tua dextera, Virgo, 

Poscitur; aetberaefer, precor, artis opem. 
Nee sine me frustra precibus male tristibus uti, 

Volaque pro famulis fund ere vana meis. 
Sed mortis stimulos et quicquid triste timemus 

Sub pedibus calces casta Maria tuis. 
Nunc sit gloria magna Deo, Natoque, sit Illi 

Qui, Sacer ambobus Spiritus ortus, adest. 
Sicuti principio fuit, est, semperque manebit , 

Integrum triplici corpore Numen, ave. 



DE CANE MORTUO NOMINE BUSY , aprilis 1809. 



Vos , o Camoenae , carmina eburneo 
Son ate plectro dulcia , quae novos 
Luctus levent , moestos benigno 
Doctae animos recreare cantu. 

Canem maligno funere mortuum 
Ploremus omnes, jam cithara decet 
Can tare dulci quem sepulchro 
Perpetuus sopor urget imo. 






( 99) 

Namque hie solebat saepius ad focum 
Jacere, lingua cum domini fovet 
Gari raanum ; saepe et magislri 
Turn lateri sonuere plausus. 
Fidelis omni tempore vixerit, 
Atque occupatus si nihil egerit , 
Latransque nocturno sonore , 
Non timuit domus alta fures. 
Fortuna saevis pecora calcibus 
Tarn cara fregit ! Quid mihi sit dolor ? 
Terram relinquens haud beatam, 
Elysiis potietur hortis. 



ALLA SANTA VERGINE. 

S alve 9 del cielo sovrana , 
Bianca Stella matutina , 
Degli angioli regina , 
Fonte del divin amor; 

Salve , della grazia piena , 
Fra le donne ben stimata , 
Sposa figliuola nata 

Madre vera del Signor ; 

Solazio dei peccatori, 
Dei smarriti Ginosura , 
Lume chiaro, luce pura , 
E perfetta castita; 

Palma della pazienza , 
Soave cassia odorata , 
Gedro dolce bene armata 
Dell' eterua carita ; 



( 100 ) 

II serpente , gia calcato 
Sotto i vostripie', dolente, 
Nella testa serba sempre 
L'alta impronta di bonta. 
O Maria, per me ora, 
Allegra la mia sorte, 
E nelP ora della morte 
Fa morire in fldelta. 

EPITHALAMIUM. 

Salve, grado Himeno. 
Ya Hespero en el cielo 
Enciende, fiel consuelo, 
La vela del amor. 
Llega, alia , Selina , 
A su caro marido , 
Roxeante en el vestido 
De carinoso ardor. 
Como en las florestas , 
Temprana y dichosa 
Es la sagrada rosa 
Pintada por amor. 
O Musas di Helicone 
Euterpe y Clio amada , 
Con vuestra voz sagrada , 
Centais en su honor. 
Las dias di verano 
Maja y pintada Flora 
Pingan la terra ahora 
Con vario color. 
Felix felix marido 
A te echa sus brazos 
En amorosos lazos 
Objeto del amor. 



THE STORY OF THE BELL. 



A FRAGMENT. 



Ask, gentle reader, of the recreant Muse 
My history, my origin and use. 
1 am a bell in lofty steeple hung 
Where God is worshipp'd and his praise is sung. 
My life 's long story shalt thou shortly know, 
From whence I came, and whither I must go. 
Beyond the spray of Deva's fabbled waves, 
Deep in Cornubia 's dark unfathom'd caves, 
A metal lay conceal 'd in winding veins 
Which Vulcan smelted into silvery grains. 
Old stories tell that in the mystic land 
Wherein Queen Mab leads forth the elfin band, 
And fairy sprites in moonlight morris dance, 
And dapper pizgies round Lostwithiel prance, 
Chaste Dian once her plighted vows forgot, 
And from her feld bow Cupid's arrow shot : 
It dropton Jove; and, as it entered in 
Th'engender'd mixture prov'd the baby Tin, 
Full grow, she imitates her mother's arts, 
And follows Phoebus into foreign parts, 
Her patron Venus to each flow'ry mead 
And crystal brook would fain the youngling lead, 
Roaming the Gallic and Italian fields 
The amorous damsel soon to Hymen yields. 
Thus mother Tin to father Copper join'd 
Dissolv'd in warmth , like other lovers kind : 
As chaste Lucina blest their mutual flame, 
So I their sweet melodious offspring came : 
Seven younger brethren did our brood compose 
And the full octave in the belfry rose. 
Here hung aloft our hallowed rites began, 
God's servants and the monitors of man. 
We in melodious harmony, are bound, 
When the full festive peal is ringing round, 
By our sweet melting influence to bind 
In stronger social bonds all human kind. 
Often at eve, when the hush'd winds are still, 
And the soft moon plays on the tinkling rill, 
Across the lake our soften'd murmur swells, 
And the lost pilgrim hails the village bells, 
Who from some foreign shrine, content to roam, 
Is glad to find himself so near his home. 



( 102 ) 

Oftimes at noon, when warmer duties lead 

To the tann'd haycock in the grassy mead, 

And the swink't hind, with sultry toil opprest, 

Under the blossom'd thorn is laid at rest, 

Our startling peal through tangled copses flings 

Its cheering notes, and to the herdsmau brings 

Glad tidings of some victory at sea, 

Or else of village wedding, as may be. 

Sabina now her oaken bower leaves, 

And Marian no longer binds her sheaves; 

Both under hedgerow elms together walk, 

And waste, bene ath the shade, their time in talk 

Of who is married? why the bells ring now ? 

Perhaps then farmer Stock has found his cow ? 

Or the rich widow has a suitor got 

To be the second partner of her lot. 

But while our sounds are dying on the gale , 

The landlord brings the bowl of spicy ale, 

Follow'd by Thestilis , who brings at last 

Of country herbs the labourer 's repast. 

Such is our peal when all in chorus ring ; 

But each his proper office oft doth sing : 

Each separate sound, like prophets' words of old , 

Hath its respective duty to unfold. 

But though each tongue is various, to one end 

All our advisa and varied accents tend. 

Concord in all is perfect , for 'tis given 

To bells , like saints , to cheer the way to Heaven ! 

Our treble shrill and clear is christened john , 

And to each matin choir he calls anon. 

His little note, like bleating lamb, doth keep 

The early vigils of Christ's folded sheep. 

Our second , agnes , tolls when children die ; 

A passing bell of plaintive minstrelsy. 

Our third , named Stephen , is the sanctus bell : 

May all who hear him do their duty well. 

Our fourth , sad magdalen , to penance calls, 

And startles wassailers in festive halls. 

Deep, flat and mellow doth her sombre note 

At shriving tide, o'er evening meadows float; 

When pensive nuns, yclad in sable veils, 

Quit the loud choir, to tell their doleful tales, 

And every village rnaid who weaves or spins 

Forsakes her wool fand wheel and counts her sins. 

Now the old hypocrite, alarm'd and sad, 

Dreads to confefs the crime that drives him mad ; 

And every monitory clang or knell 

Brings to his view repentance, penance, Hell. 

Far different yon virgin at her beads, 

Who a chaste life in godly counsel leads ! 



( 105 ) 

Our fifth, the firebell, is Saint Laurence call'd : 

A louder larum ne'er from steeple bawl'd. 

His voice, most terrible at midnight hour 

Makes stout the heart of city wights to cow'r. 

That dreadful element in flames had broke 

Forth from his bonds, and fiil'd the ;iir with smoke. 

No more man's slave, his master now become, 

Her rages far and wide : hark how the drum, 

Mid screaming trumpet and alarming horn, 

Proclaims the burning town, and blazing corn. 

Loud scream the women, engines roll along, 

And houseless thousands to the ramparts throng. 

The deep red sky reflects the horrid light, 

And from their nests scares e'en the birds at night, 

Meanwhile the bell with wild uproarious clang 

Rings on, while many votive prayers are sang, 

From fiercer fires that what our fifth proclaims 

May our sweet sixth protect all pious dames ; 

He, Baptist call'd, to every mass invites, 

And with his cheerful tone the hind delights ; 

Bids faithful pastors now prepare the way 

For Him who from high Heav'n descends to day. 

Our seventh, the most mysterious note of all, 

Profound and awful, has been christen'd Paul. 

The funeral clang, the mournful passing knell 

Attest the force of thissoulsaddening bell. 

And I, the last, not least, am Mary named, 

And for my deep impressive tone am famed ; 

I bear her image who the infant God 

Hath born, and on the conquer'd serpent trod. 

For each great feast my solemn voice I raise, 

Inviting all to sing their Maker's praise : 

Then calls the housewife all the maids around, 

And says, hark now the Mary clock doth sound. 

Wash up the house, et put your work eway 

Tomorrow is a festive holiday. 

Three times, three strokes, three times a day, I ring, 

To call the faithful Angelus to sing 

And often times I give the warning sound 

Of curfew, when no fire must more be found. 

Ive told you what I am, and now 1 must 

Announce my doom, like you, I turn to dust. 



INSCRIPTION 



For the Tomb of my old Dog Shargs, buried Sunday 24th June 1838. 
Beneath these trees I've buried my old dog , 
Who, nine years, by my side was wont to jog , 
With him I lov'd the weary day to spend , 
My brother mortal and my only friend. 



( 104 ) 

But now his tongue is mute, his bones are old , 

His nerves are quiet and his blood is cold. 

Yet, warmer still, though cold, than those who find 

A pride to boast themselves of human kind. 

Nor emptier I find his hollow head , 

Now laid, as whilome, on his master's bed , 

Than stupid man's who takes such fruitless pains 

To make me think his skull possess'd of brains : 

For Shargs was Nature's dearest sweetest child ; 

His ways were simple and his temper mild , 

His faithfull heart alone knew no deceit ; 

And, when his tongue his master's hand would greet, 

No squint suscipion filled the cautious mind , 

Such as one feels when greeted by mankind , 

That venom lurk behind each fond embrace , 

Wild hypocrite is written in the face ! 

Vile man alone defiles the nuptial bed ; 

Lust bids him couple , interest makes him wed ; 

Pride prompts his virtues , avarice his cares ; 

And coward superstition writes his prayers. 

In bis curs'd fall , if tales of old be true , 

And Satan really tumbled with his crew , 

Man , more degraded than the rest, at least , 

Fell lower than each other fallen beast: 

And , to conceal his shame, he makes his task , 

In every stage of life to wear the mask : 

For, though the lion lies not with the lamb , 

The cub sleeps safely by the parent dam ; 

The fox may hunt the goose, the stoat the rat , 

The snappish dog may chase the saucy cat, 

Where right is might and hunger points the way , 

The stronger beast will make the weak his prey ; 

But man leaves other brutes far , far behind , 

In cruelty , and preys upon mankind ; 

Gorg'd with the gore of beasts, seeks human food. 

Eats kindred flesh, and drinks his brothers' blood. 

In civil life, a fiend grown more refin'd , 

He steals his friend's estate and wounds his mind ; 

Destroys his comrade's honor, blasts his fame , 

And robs his neighbour of an honest name ; 

And, when his foul career is fully run , 

His body rotten and his soul undone , 

He hopes to get his horrid sins forgiven, 

By laying claim to an exclusive heaven. 

Yes, cursed man! I've seen the sable dye , 

In every clime, of thy hypocrisy , 

But, my dear dog, endow'd with simple grace, 

Carried his heart upon his honest face ; 

With friendship, not by sordid lucre gained , 

His faith unpurchas'd and his love unfeign'd, 

He, unlike man, who courts where he can pick, 

Lick'd where belov'd, not lov'd where he could lick ; 



( 103 ) 

And prov'd himself, to life's remotest end, 

My only trusty and confiding friend. 

But now he's gone and all his pranks are o'er ; 

And Poski plays where Shargs had play'd before. 

God wot how soou a third may take his place , 

And grace the kennel he was wont to grace ; 

How soon may Zante wag his merry tail 

O'er their twin graves ; for dogs, like men, are frail, 

At least in body, though they 're firm in mind 

As in these records trac'd by love we find. 

Like waves at sea, or flowers in the mead, 

Man follows man, and dogs to dogs succed. 

"Where'er the mind can rove, or body range , 

The universe is one wide ceaseless change : 

Nor where xve come from, nor yet where we go , 

Have the Gods giv'n to prying man to know. 

Then, hither, Muses, all your concord bring, 

And, Flora, round this urn your blossoms fling : 

Haste to this mould, and on ihis tablet lay 

Each virgin bloom that decks the lap of May ; 

Scatter the heartsease of unnumber'd dyes , 

And open summer's sweet enamell'd eyes. 

And thou, Melpomene, whom Pity bids 

To dry thy tears and wipe thy lovely lids , 

Dip Clio's quill in Brahma's Indian ink, 

Since all efisoons of Lethe's stream must drink ; 

And write on this grey tomb, o'ergrown with moss — 

Of one true friend I here bewail the loss. 

Of all the forms fond Memory can trace 

None are so sweet as Puppy's sonsie face. 

Busy was snug, old Tra y was vastly clever. 

Fangs handsome, TriM and Lion quiet never 

Long Pum was fond, but cross, Guess hardly civil , 

And poor old Loski, snappish as the devil , 

But was endowed with friendship's firmest ties, 

"While sorrow sat upon his yellow eyes, 

And e'en in death his pleasure unsurpass'd 

Was to defend my wardrobe to the last. 

Nature for each fond dog from Jove had stole 

Some special grace to animate his soul, 

To SH&RGS alone were higher titles given , 

Which Justice registers to day in heaven. 



14 



( 106 ) 
Imitation of the Ranz des V aches. 

When shall I return to the Land of the Mountains 

The lakes and the Rhone that is lost in the earth , 
Our sweet little hamlets, our villages, fountains, 

The flowerclad rocks of the place of my birth? 
O when shall I sec my old garden of flowers, 

Dear Emma the sweetest of blooms in the glade, 
And the rich chesnut grove where we pass'd the long hours 

With Tabor and Pipe, while we danced in the shade 
When shall I revisit the Land of the Mountains, 

Where all the fond objects of memory meet ; 
The Cows that would follow my voiee to the fountains, 

The Lambs that I call'd to the shady retreat, 
My father, my mother, my sister and brother; 

My all that was dear in this valley of tears ; 
My palfrey grown old, but there's ne'er such another 

My dear dog, still faithful, tho' stricken in years. 
The vesper bell tolling, the loud thunder rolling; 

The Bees that hummed round the tall vinemantled tree, 
The smooth water's margin whereon we were strolling 

When evening painted its mirror for me. 
And shall I return fo his scenery never? 

These objects of infantine glory end love ; 
O tell me, my dear Guardian Angel, that ever 

Floats nigh me, sale guide to the regions above. 



Ranz des Vaches. 



Quand reverai-je en un jour, 

Tous les objects de mon amour, 

Nos clairs ruisseaux, 

Nos hameaux, 

IN os coteaux, 

Nos montagnes, 

Et I'ornamentde nos moniagnes, 

La si genlille Isabeau? 

Dans l'ombre d'un ormeau, 

Quand danserai-je au son du Chalameau ? 

Quand reverai-je en un jour, 

Tous les objects de mon amour, 

Mon pere, 

Ma mere, 

Mou frere, 

Ma scenr, 

Mes agneaux, 

Mes troupeaux , 

Ma bergere? 



( 107 ) 

Infantine Rocolleettons . 

In Fancy how dear are the scenes of my childhood 

Which old recollections recall to my view ; 
My own little gardeu, its plants, aud the wild wood, 

The old paper Kite that my infancy flew. 
The cool shady Elm Grove, the pond that was by it 

My small plaything Mill where the rain torrent fell ; 
My Father's Pot Garden, the Drying ground nigh it. 

The old wooden Pump by the Melon ground well. 
That Portugal Laurel I hail as a treasure, 

For often in Summer, when tired of play, 
I found its thick shade a most exquisite pleasure, 
And sat in its boughs my longs lessons to say, 
There I first thought my scholarship somewhat advancing, 
And, turning my Lilly right down on its back, 
While my thirst for some drink the Suns beams were enhacing, 

I shouted out learnedly— Da mihi lac. 
No image more dear than the thoughts of these baubles 

Ghigs, Peg Tops, and infantine games; 
The Grassplot for Ball, and the Yewwalk for Marbles. 
That leads to a temple which nobody names. 
Those three renowned Poplars, hy Summer winds waved, 

By Tom, Ben, and Ned, that were planted of yore, 
'Twixt ihe times that these wights were first breeched and first shaved , 

May now be hewn dow, nand may waver no more ! 
How well I remember, when Spring flowers were blowing, 

With rapture I cropt the Crocuses there 
Life seemed like a Lamp in eternity glowing, 

Nor dreamt I that all the green boughs would be sear . 
I Summer, while feasting on Gurrrnts and Cherries , 

And roving throngh Strawberry beds with delight, 
I thruhht not of Autumn's Grapes, Nuts, and Blackberries, 

Nor of Ivy decked Winter cold shivering in white 
E'en in that frosty season, tuy Grandfather's Hall in. 

I used to sit turning the Electric Machine, 
And taking, from shockbottles, shocks much less galling, 

If sharper, than those of my manhood I ween. 
The Chesnuts I piked up and flung in the fires, 

The evergreens gathered the hot coals to choke 
Made reports that were emblens of blown up desires, 

And warm glowing hopes that have ended in smoke. 
How ofi have I sat on the green bench astonished, 

To gaze at Orion and Night's shady car, 
By the starpangled sky's magic lantern admonished 

Of time and of space that were distant afar ! 
But now, when embarked on Life's rough troubled ocean, 

While Hope with her anchor stands up on the bow, 
May Fortune take care of my skiff put in motion, 
Nor sink me when coyly she steps on the prow. 



( 108 ) 



TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. 



O how quickly, how fleting, 

Doth each flowery season pass, 
Time is alwaye mortals cheating, 

Swiftly runs life's hourglas ; 
That which whylome seem'd the morning, 

Present time, we now call night, 
Soon another day'li be dawning, 

Soon will set another light. 
how quikly, O how fleeting, 

Recreant Spring has passed away; 
Daffodillies , Snowdrops, Lilies 

And sweet Violets, all decay : 
That which whylome seem'd the springtime, 

Budding hedges, hawthorn bloom, 
All are gone; and who can bring time 

Back, dispelling wintery gloom. 
Ohow quickly, O how fleeting, 

Glowing Summer rolled along, 
Lilies Posies, Pinks and Roses; 

Nightless days and milkmaid's song. 
That which once was frolic haytime, 

Now is winter'y morning drear, 
What was whylome Natur's daytime, 

Seems the evening of thJ year. 
O how quickly, O how fleeting, 

Autumns golden fruits are fled, 
Scarce they're tasted but they're wasted. 

And the bough that bore them dead. 
What just now was harvest frasting 

When the Horn of Plenty blew, 
Vintage mirth, and merry jesting, 

Ceas'd when Brumal whirlwinds blew. 
O how quickly, how fleeting, 

Will dark Winter's reign pass o'er; 
Other springs, our senses cheating, 

Soon will bloom to bloom more. 
What now is , is always waning, 

Flying Time will no more fly, 
But the eternal self remaining, 

Seek its mansion in the sky. 
Ah while each successive season 

Steals some fried, till all are gone, 
Time is spinning, we are sinning, 

Life's pale lamp is burning on. 



( 109 ) 

Cares oppresing, fools caressing, 

Toiling till our span is spun ; 
Hope we find the only blessing 

Waiting the eternal Sun. 
Hail then, Lady Star of Heaven, 

Hear thy pilgrim's votive prayer, 
Balm of woes whom God has given 

To the mourner in despair ; 
' That which once was giddy Pleasue's, 

Passing time, shall now be thine; 
Thee I'll praise in deftest measures, 

Virgin, now thine ear incline. 
For since changeable and fleeting 

Are all worldly pleasures here. 
Spring and Summer always cheating, 

Autumn waning, Winter near. 
Brightest Star, for ever shining, 

Round whose feet sweet Angels sing, 
Help my soul, to God inclining, 

To obtain the eternal Spring. 



To the Bell flowers that grew round a Saint's Pillar. 



O little drooping bells of blue, 
Like rosaries of azure hue, 
That catch the Palmer's passing view, 

As on he's wending 
To some saint's shrine ; at evening hour 
I'll sit beneath the m mtled tower. 
To tell my beads, while pelts the shower, 

To which thou'rt bending, 
When high aloft, in accents fair, 
The pillar'd martyr makes his prayer, 
And carols to the ambient air, 

As if revealing 
Some mystery deep of God on high. 
Pensive and motionless I'll try 
To catch the prophetis words that fly 

Neath Heaven's high ceiling. 



( 110 ) 

VERSES 
Inscribed by T. Forster on a Skull, 

Oeradty vault of former glory ! 

Whate'er thou wert in time of old, 
Thy surface tells thy living story, 

Though now so hollow, dead, and cold 5 
For in thy form is yet descrid 

The traces left of young Desire, 
The Painter's art, the Statesman's pride, 

The Muse's song, the Poet's fire ; 
But these, forsooth, now seem to be 
Mere Bumps on thy Periphery. 
Dear Nature, constant in her laws, 

Hath marked each mental operation. 
She ever y feeling's limit draws 

On all the heads troughout the nation, 
That there might no deception de ; 

And he who keus her tokens well, 
Hears tongues which every where agree 

In language that no lies can tell — 
Courage, Deceit, Destruction, Theft, 

Have traces on the Skullcap left. 
But trough all Nature's constancy 

An awful change of form is seen, 
Two forms are not which quite agree, 

None is replaced that once hath been 
Endless variety in all, 

From Fly to Man, Creation's pride, 
Each shows his proper form, to fall 

Eft soons in time's o'erwhelming tide : 
And mutability goes on 

With cerseles combination. 
'Tis thine to teach with magie power 

Those who stiilbend life's fragile stem, 
To suck thu sweets of every flower, 

Before the sun shall set to them ; 
Calm the contending passions dire, 

AVhich on ihy surface I descry, 
Like water struggling with the fire 

In combat, which of them shall die ; 
Thus is the soul, in Fury's car, 

A type of Hell's intestine war. 
Old wall of man's most noble part, 

While now I trace with trembling hand. 



( 111 ) 

Thy senttments , how oft I start , 

Dismayed at such a jarring band : 
Man with discordant frenzy fraught 

Seems either madman, fool, or knave ; 
To try to live is all he's taught — 

To 'scape her feet who nonght dolh save 
In life's proud race, unknown our goal, — 
To strive against a kindred soul. 
These various organs show the place 

Where Friendship loved , where Passion glowed , 
Where Veneration grew in grace, 

Where Justice swayed, where man was proud — 
Whence Wit its slippery sallies threw 

On Vanity, thereby defeated ; 
Where Hope's imaginary view 

Of things to come, fond fool, is seated ; 
Where Circumspection made us fear, 
'Mid gleams of joy some danger near. 
Here fair Benevolence doth grow 

In forehead high — here Imitation 
Adorns the stage, here on the brow, 

Are sound, and Color's legislation. 
Here doth Approprition try, 

By help of Secrecy to gain 
A store of wealth , against we die , 

For heirs to dissipate again. 
Cause and Comparison here show 
The use of every thing we know. 
But here that fiends doth dwell , 

Wild Ideality unshaken 
By facts or theory, whose sqell 

Maddens the soul and fires our beacon , 
Whom Memory tortures, Hope deludes, 

Whom Circumspection fills with dread , 
On every organ he obtrudes , 

Until Destruction o'er his head 
Impends ; then mad with luckless strife , 
He voluuteers the loss of life. 
And canst thou teach to future Man 

The way his evils to repair — 
Say, O memento of the span 

Of mortal life? For if the care 
Of truth to science be not given , 

From whom no treachery it can sever, 
Ther's no dependence under Heaven 

That error may not reign for ever. 
May future heads more learning cull 
From thee, when mine shall be a skull. 



( 112 ) 

HYMN 

On May Morning laid on the Virgin's altar with a nosegay, 

Fair star of morning shed Ihey Orient rays 
On Nature rising glorious from her tomb, 
Fresh blossoms born beneath thy holy gaze 
Now deck the earth with universal bloom. 

For thee the flowers, for thee the music loo; 
The mountain minstrel sings his song of love ; 
While brilliantly arrayed in robe of blue 
Thine is the dazzling Firmament above ! 

And while the nightingales in full toned choirs 
Proclaim thy glory to the feather'd throng, 
The holy Angels touch their mystic lyres 
In sweet accordance to the nightbirds song. 

See from thy spangled palace in the sky 
How swiftly pass May's consecrated hours, 
Blest by thy smiles, they glide as calmly bye, 
As incense offered at a shrine of flowers. 

As now the sun doth bathe in floods of light 
The emerald valley and the sparkling brine, 
Decking alike with golden radiance bright 
The rustic chapel, and the gorgeous shrine. 

So thy just hand with equal grace receives 
The monarch's crown, with costly gems inlaid 
And the green wreath, that round thy Image weaves 
The simple maiden of the villiage glade — Mimie. 

FAIRWELL TO MAY. 

Sweet queen of flowers ! 

Say now where art thou hiding, 
Beneath the starred welkin's carpet blue, 

That seems just spread anew, 
The rosebreds and the odorous hawthorn bowers, 

That while thou wast abiding 
Among us, in our blosom'd gardens grew ; 

Say goddess, where 

These purple blooms are gone; 
Hast thow transform them to the mottled skies 

Where, with thy sister Pleiades, 
Thou wearest them in thy bright amber hair, 
Or do they fade upon 
Thy boson, where thy fondest suitor dies. 







FLOPJLEGIUM NUG/RUM CANTABRIGENSIUM. 



PAN 



A PASTORAL OF THE FIRST AGE 



TOGETHER WITH 



SOME OTHER POEMS 



T. FORSTER, MB. FRAS. FLS, etc., etc. 

AUTHOR OF PHILOZOIA ; ELOGIA DI BOECC1 J EULOGY OF SHARGS : 
NOTES AD ARATI DIOSEMOEAM, AND NUMEROUS OTHER WORKS. 



BRUSSELS. 



BELGIAN PRINTING AND PUBLISHING SOCIETY. 

HAUMAN AND CO. 

1840 



BY THE SAME AUTHOR: 

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Price 2 f. 
Essai sur les Com^tes; Reponse a M. Arago, etc. — 

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Perennial Calendar. — Price 20 f. 
Letters of Locke; with a Metaphysical Preface. — 

Price 10 f. 
Autobiographie , ou Recueil de ma Vie. 
Essay on Atrial and Alpine Voyages. With a particular 
account of the author's own balloon voyage. — 

Price 3 f. 



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